Journey's End
by Little Cherry Tree
Summary: Complete. Buffy is sent by the Powers to fulfill one last oath to a King and to take on the courage of men before she can rest in peace. BtVSLOTR
1. Sanctuary

**Journey's End**

**Title**: Journey's End

**Authors**: co-written by my fabulous co-conspirator. She knows who she is.

**Rating**: PG-13, same as the films.

**Genre**: Action/Adventure crossover.

**Pairings**: It's a little too soon for this... but the book ones there are.

**Teaser**: Buffy is sent by the Powers to fulfill one last oath to a King before she can rest in peace. BtVS - LOTR

**Summary**: Buffy didn't survive when she defeated the First. Instead, she found herself back at the halls of The Powers That Be, which told her that it wasn't her time to die just yet. They ask her to take one last mission to help give aid to a King in the place of the broken White Council, before she can finally rest in peace. Because of Saruman's betrayal to the old Council, Buffy has been asked to intervene. When she arrives in Middle Earth, she is taken by Gwaihir with Gandalf and brought into Lorién. There she learns about the world she'll soon be helping to save and a King that lies in darkness that she will serve until the end.

**Disclaimer**: Joss Whedon owns Buffy-verse. J.R.R. Tolkein owns "The Lord of the Rings" books, specifically "The Two Towers" and "Return of the King", both of which we'll be using in this plot. Since we are taking some edits from the movies, they belong to Peter Jackson and company, New Line Cinema, and probably the entire country of New Zealand.

**Timeline**: We're not going to play around with the timeline TOO much. Buffy arrives in Middle Earth around the 14th of February 3019. She and Gandalf arrive in Rohan by the end of February, 3019. This puts us JUST before Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli meet Gandalf. It should go through the battle at Helm's Deep, through Isengard, past Pelennor Fields, to the Black Gate and through the end events of Return of the King. In Buffy-verse, we're talking like seconds after Sunnydale is destroyed. Buffy therefore arrives in Rohan just in time to meet up with the Rohirrim and is introduced to Aragorn and the others when the Rohirrim circle the trio. Gandalf is left in Fangorn to do his own bidding. As per the books, Eomer returns with her to Meduseld, where he is charged and thrown into prison, etc, etc. We change the timeline to give a few days in there.

**Notes**: I have read quite a few stories about Buffy getting in Middle Earth and going straight for helping Gondor... what if she chose Rohan instead? What if she chose to fight with the Rohirrim and help save a King? And what if Buffy... err... we're already giving far too much away :)

We also use quite a bit of dialogue and settings, etc from the book. Since Buffy isn't really in the realm of "elvish", there really is no need for it. Also, we've given her her middle name to use instead of trying to come up with one. The Rohirric name for "Beverley" is quite odd (Beverley being the name 'Buffy' is short for!).

**Chapter Note**: Episode stuff is taken from "Chosen", transcript 144.

- - - - -

**Chapter 1**

**Sanctuary**

- - - - -

"Oh, bullocks."

A beam of pure white light shot upwards, bursting through the ground over their heads.

Buffy Summers turned to see Spike, the ensouled vampire, pinned to the wall, standing in the glow of a warm orange light. "Spike!" she cried out, not believing her eyes.

There was a burst of energy and the light from the amulet against his chest burst out streams of white light, annihilating the Turok-han closest to them, and then spreading to beams of what had to be solar energy, taking out those in the chasm below.

Buffy ran to his side as the ground beneath them began to tremble. The other Slayers looked at one another in shock. Chunks of rock and pointed stalactites tumbled from the ceiling as the quaking intensified.

"Everybody out now!" Faith shouted, taking charge.

The Slayers all moved towards the stairs, some of them in obvious agony as Faith worked to pull the injured girls to safety.

Buffy was frozen in time and space, staring at Spike, wrapped in the reddish glow, wanting to intervene, to help him, but uncertain as how to do it.

He spoke then, his voice full of pain and anguish. "I can feel it, Buffy."

"What?" she asked, still trying to find a way to help him.

"My soul," Spike replied in the same voice. "It's really there. It kind of stings."

The last of the Slayers were now running past Faith. She glanced desperately around the chasm that was starting to come apart.

"Go on, then," Spike said, putting up his bravest front, or the bravest he could, considering all of his life's energy and his demon's essence were being poured into this amulet that had just annihilated tens of thousands of super-vampires.

Buffy shook her head, feeling desperate. "No! No, you've done enough! You could still—"

"No, you've beaten them back. It's for me to do the cleanup."

Behind them, the ceiling collapsed, cutting off the abysmal chasm. Buffy stared at it a moment before turning back to Spike.

"Buffy, come on!" Faith cried, her voice a mere echo on top of the narrow spiral staircase. Glancing one last time down at the first Slayer, she jumped back up and made to escape.

"Gotta move, lamb. I think it's fair to say, school's out for the bloody summer."

"Spike!" Buffy said, her voice little more than a plea now.

"I mean it! I gotta do this," he countered.

The light surrounding him began to burn brighter. Reaching forward, she took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. He turned to look at her then, a spread of emotions crossing his face. Their grip burst into flame, sealing the silent promise they once held to one another, a passion long lost, but never forgotten.

"I love you," she said quietly, a tear trickling down her cheek.

He stared at her then, really stared at her. "No, you don't," he finally said. "But thanks for saying it." They stared at each other sadly for a moment.

Chunks of rock above their heads started crashing around them, cutting off various escape routes.

"Now go!" Spike shouted as she broke their contact and glanced at the staircase. In seconds, she was gone.

The front of the school exploded in a shower of dust and debris. From within the hellish storm of flying brick and masonry, a lone figure emerged, running for her life. Faith. She tore across the lot and towards the school bus waiting to bring everyone to safety.

As the bus pulled away, Dawn stared out the back window, searching for any sign of her sister. She couldn't see her, not anywhere.

The front entrance to the school was blocked. With the scythe still in her hand, Buffy turned and looked desperately for a way out. Spying sunlight streaming from above, she ran for the stairs and burst through the roof as the school began to crumble from beneath her feet, sinking into the ground. With a cry, she threw herself off of the old building and onto the roof of the next. Seeing the bus not three blocks away, she put forth a burst of speed, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

The destruction was closing in on her. Before she could leap from her current position to the bus not twenty feet below, the building sank from beneath her. With a scream, she found herself falling away, the scythe spinning endlessly through the air, landing with a hard chink of metal through the top of the school bus still rushing to get away.

She closed her eyes as she saw the hole spreading beneath her. She felt herself falling endlessly and closed her eyes, hoping for a resolution, but it would never come...

The bus came to a full stop outside of the Sunnydale city limits. Dawn burst out of the emergency exit, searching for any sign of her sister beyond the rubble. "Buffy!" she screamed, tears springing to her eyes. "Buffy!"

She was joined by Willow, who caught the younger woman as she fell, shrieking to the ground, her wails dissolving as the shock of what had just occurred overcame her senses.

"No."

One by one, those who had survived gathered by the edge of the gaping hole which had once been their home, silently paying their last respects to the fallen heroes.

- - -

When Buffy opened her eyes, she wasn't where she expected to be. The last thing she remembered was the remains of a building collapsing underneath her. She had been so close to getting to safety, and yet...

Where was she now?

"Hello?" she asked, feeling annoyed that it was taking forever to figure out where she really was. All she saw were great white walls. It wasn't even glowing. From what she saw when she was first in Heaven, this really wasn't it.

"It's been awhile," a voice said from behind her.

Buffy spun around and noticed a familiar figure standing in the middle of the white room, holding a book in his arms.

"You," she called softly. "What is this? Where am I?"

"You're with the Powers, girl," said the figure, stepping forward and offering her a hand. "Gotta say, you sure pulled a miracle out of nothing with Sunnydale."

"Oh, my friends! My sister... are they all right?"

"They are fine," the figure replied with a quiet air of resonance around him.

"When can I see them?" she asked eagerly. "Or am I..." A sad look crossed her features and she glanced around the room. "Am I dead? Is this hell?"

"In quick order, you won't be able to see your friends or your sister again, so I must apologize for that before you decide to make due on your previous threats," the figure replied swiftly. "Your other questions are more complex. You are in a state between living and passing, and this, I can assure you, is as far away from hell as I've ever known."

"What am I doing here?" she asked uncertainly.

The figure bent down and set the book upon the floor before straightening and looking her in the eye. "That question is, too, complex. You are here because the Powers aren't ready for you to be gone yet. There are other wars in other times and the balance is a precarious thing. You just scored a major victory against evil at the cost of your old life. The Powers are prepared to make a deal with you."

"They want me to deal with the Powers That Be?" she asked incredulously. "Whistler, you have to understand something--"

"I know they pulled you out of Heaven, kid. The truth was, we could've done it ourselves had there had not already been someone living to take your place."

"Faith," she echoed softly.

"Your friends, your Watcher and even your sister will follow her now," Whistler replied, gently touching her shoulder, yet she pulled away from him, sharply.

"And what am I going to do? Be you? Be like you?"

"This is where we make the deal," Whistler said delicately.

"Why can't you just let me rest in peace!" she wailed. "This is the third time that I've died for the Powers and they still can't let me go!"

"They're willing to," Whistler replied, looking her in the eye. "They have one last task for you, first."

"They... they do?"

"I told you, kid. The Powers look over other times. There's a time when the balance has tipped so far into the powers of good that in another, the balance is unfurled. This is where you come in."

He stooped low and lifted the book, stared at it for a moment almost lovingly, and then passed it onto her. She took it and stared at the front cover, which acted like a mirror for one moment, showing her bruised, battered face. It then changed to a beautiful, picturesque view of green scenery.

"Where's this?" she asked him. He hovered near her shoulder, half fearing she would overreact and pull something stupid. He glanced at the look of tender thought on her face and gave a grim smile.

"It's a world far worse off than yours ever was."

"It looks so peaceful," she said quietly. "Almost like Heaven."

"It's anything but," he replied. "Open the book, and you'll see."

She pulled open the front cover. Inside, written as though on a scroll, was a map, with the tiny writing of Middle Earth lining the caption. Parts of the map were moving, but she was far too transfixed by the runes lining the margins.

"Is this real?" she asked, glancing up at Whistler, who seemed to relax further about her.

"It's as real as I am, kid."

"And the Powers... they want me to go here? To do what, exactly?"

"They need your help to restore the balance in that world."

To his utter surprise, she closed the book and threw it at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. "I am so sick of playing a stupid pawn in yet another useless war! You stand there and tell me I have a new destiny? I am not a toy! You're so useful standing there, staring at me like I'm an idiot, but you know what?" Her voice was so quiet now, her eyes filled with tears of both pain and anger. "I think it's time I get to go to Heaven."

"It isn't your time yet. You know this, because you were so very close to surviving. It wasn't your time to die. When it is, you'll know it."

This was far too much to take in. She dropped to the ground, staring helplessly at the opposing white walls. "What am I to do?"

"There was once a Council of elders who decided the way things ought to be in this land, this Middle Earth. But things changed when the highest of their order turned to sorcery, and hope has faded. While the Powers are returning one who might stand for the highest of this order, they bid for one to stand for him. That's where you come in, Princess."

Buffy didn't seem to take in a word of this until she turned to look at him. "Me? An elder?"

"They were Wizards, technically," he replied, tilting his head to consider her. "You're a few hundred years too young to be considered anything close to elder. A sapling, some might say. A youngling, in their tongue. No, it is the duty of this one Wizard, Mithrandir, to bring one King into power. They have a need for you, as well."

"Look at all the images, Whistler. This land is full of men, powerful men. Women have no place there. Women need no place there."

"There is another King, but he has fallen to darkness. There are many who believe this land will fall, but the Powers believe if they have an aide..."

"Why me?" she asked him, looking startled. "I am so not the girl to help a King, of all people."

"You will understand when you go," Whistler said, picking up the book and handing it back to her. "And, why not you? You have led your friends and the other chosen into a war, pulling a miracle out from within the last seconds of doom. You died a hero in their eyes, Buffy, and if there is one thing this land needs, it is you. If you take this up and promise to fulfill it as an oath, the Power will stand by and let you rest in eternal peace. They might even secure you a happy place in Heaven."

"I want one more thing," she replied, staring down at the images on the book-cover again. She glanced up at him.

"Speak up now, and I'll see what we can do," he replied, looking anxious again.

"I know that my friends, my Watcher and my sister have a hard road ahead of them," Buffy said quietly, smiling wistfully at the memory of her sister. "Can you at least look after them? I know Faith has had her problems, but their lives are in her hands now. She needs your strength, too, even if she'll never admit it. And Dawn... please look after my sister. I don't want her to be alone." At this, she chewed her lip and looked away, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I wish that I could have seen her one last time."

"You understand why you can't," Whistler said hopefully. She nodded gravely and brushed the mutinous tears aside.

"Am I going in blind?" she asked him, looking confused again. "Or are you going to help me?"

"You know as much as you need to at the present moment," Whistler said, dropping down next to her and clasping her shoulder. This time, she didn't pull away; all of her anger was spent. "Mithrandir will guide you, as he is the Head of his Order. You are going to be nothing more than an aide to him, a guide for the men of these lands. I know they have no patience for a woman with a sword, but once they see you in action, I have faith they'll change their minds. Oh, and one last thing..." He looked most reluctant to bring up his last point, and he pulled away, in case she started retaliating again. "There is the issue of your name."

"What's wrong with Buffy?" she asked defensively, leaping to her feet again, the book tucked in her arms protectively.

"These are simple people who will not understand your dialect or your sarcasm. It would be wise to choose something simpler. Buffy is short for Beverley, if you wish to choose that."

Buffy looked revolted at the very thought. "I think I'll go with Anne. It is my middle name, and you have to agree that at four letters, it is quite simple."

"Anne we can work with," said Whistler, smiling grimly at her. He paused and stared off into the distance.

"What is it?" she asked, before he held up his hand to quiet her.

"The Powers have agreed to your terms," he said, looking almost happy as he turned back to look at her.

Her smile was one of fierce pride and satisfaction, and he imagined her smiling this way upon the destruction of the town where her name had been so very well known to the demons and other forces of darkness. It was also full of a bittersweet longing, a desperate want to return to what she knew best. But in her heart, she knew that it was this decision that was going to shape the rest of her life. The Powers were giving her a chance to become a hero one last time.

"I will go," she said at last, rising to her full height. "I'll do what you ask on one condition - no more plots, ploys, or using the Slayer..." Her voice trailed off. Then, "Will I get to keep my powers?"

"You will have your strength and your abilities," Whistler assured her. "You'll have need for those, I'll tell you that. Look, kid... I'm not saying this is going to be easy. You already lived your life, three if you count how many times you could have been buried permanently. All we ask is that you try your best. If you die in any manner, we'll consider this a done deal and you can be free to go and live your life wherever you choose to go. But we need a champion, and you're one of the only ones we got left. We're lucky; we usually have to knock one off to get one. You just stumbled across. Very lucky."

She looked down at the book and turned to the back, where the mirror showed her bruised, battered face again. "Am I going to show up in this world looking like I just fell off a building? Because, I hate to tell ya, it's not really my style."

A moment later, the mirror wiggled, or something like it. She felt for the bruising on her face, but felt no pain. Blinking, she smiled at her reflection.

"Anything else?"

She had so many questions to ask, but she knew that the answers wouldn't be comforting. Would there be wars, battles and death? What were the people like? Were they all men (in which case, she was going to enjoy taking a walk in the past)? What did they use for weapons? What did they wear? Where did they live? So many questions were going through her head, but she couldn't settle on one to ask, save "Where is this place?"

"It's called Middle Earth, and it came before the demons walked upon Earth. It's an old, old time."

Buffy let out a soft moan. "Why couldn't it be somewhere in the future? Of course it has to be the past!"

"I believe there are a great many things that you still may yet do," Whistler said, looking upon the eldest Slayer with pride. "I consider myself lucky to be part of your company."

"Do these people talk like that too?"

"Oh, yes, many do. Some speak the same language, and there are others who do not."

She put a hand over her eyes. "I'm so doomed."

"You'll be fine," Whistler said after a momentary pause. "You'll have the White Rider to look after you. There is nothing to fear anymore, not even death. You've died a lot already, Princess. Maybe now you can find a chance to live in a time where the world isn't about to end and when the world is no longer your sole responsibility. We'll take care of Dawn and the rest of your group. You have to take care of yourself now, and we'll hold our end of the bargain. You never know... you might actually like this world."

Buffy gave him a shaky smile. "Perhaps, Whistler. Stranger things have happened."

"I guess it's time to say goodbye," Whistler said, looking at the Slayer one last time, really seeing her for who she was: power, wisdom and strength. "Don't lose faith in those around you; many have little hope, and you brought much to those Potentials that had none. I am... honored that I had this opportunity to speak with you again, for you are the favorite of many up here, and we hope you'll be among us someday." He gave her a sad smile. "We will not meet again, Buffy Summers."

"Please," she said, giving him a tearful smile. "Don't remind me of all I have lost. If death is still my gift, I'll give it my best. I promise I'll try, that's the best I can do." She walked forward and surprised her guide by hugging him. "Take care of my family."

"I will, Princess. Good luck, Buffy." He reached forward and put his hand to her face. Immediately, her eyes clouded over and as she sank into unconsciousness, her body faded through the floor, passing through clouds of memory and time.

When she next opened her eyes, she felt a great swiftness beneath her and turned her head to see a beating of wings above her; she was being carried. The ground was vast and green beneath her, but she had little time to dwell upon this, as sleep soon overcame her.

When she came to, there was a soft voice singing in her ear and her eyes fluttered open, fixing on a face above her. As she opened her mouth to gape, she heard a voice to her left say, "She awakens."

Buffy turned her head to see a woman clad in white threaded with silver, far more beautiful than any that walked on her version of Earth. Her hair was pale blonde and cascaded down to her hips in gentle waves. A golden triangle fell from a thin chain around her head and settled onto her forehead, giving her an ethereal light that took Buffy's breath away.

"We know why you have come... Merilin."

All Buffy could do was try not to gape at the taller stranger, but couldn't help uttering a soft "Oh."

**End Note**: This is how it ultimately begins. Most of this story has been written since, oh, this past May sometime. We're just doctoring it up, and we'd love to get opinions on it, basically because this is the first joint-fic, first crossover and the first fic I have ever written. We've decided to use some of the movie scenes, basically because the books, while they do go into great detail, they leave out some of the drama. You'll see what we mean. Yes, Buffy took her new "destiny" easily, this we know. But she'll question her decisions in due time. In this next chapter, she meets her guide.


	2. Lothlórien

**Miscellaneous**

Pairings: This fiction will follow many of the book relationships. Originally, Buffy had no romantic involvement in this fiction, but this decision was changed by those of us who returned to complete it. There were two choices and we chose the one we found least common, and we hope it will be a satisfactory choice for you all. We will inform you however that it isn't Aragorn. If you are in the 'need to know', you are well within your rights to ask.

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the book.

Gratitude: First of all, you are my first reviewers. I thank you so very much for reading and responding so positively to this story. It gives me great pride to think that you actually like this fiction and do not consider it as rubbish, as I first did. So, my thanks to you all, and a special thanks to those of you who reviewed.

Remarks: I realize that although this story is new, I have contributed a great deal of both time and research into this, as has Katrina, my co-writer. This is her first piece of fanfiction in quite some time, and we both found the idea of a crossover scintillating. We completely appreciate those of you who have read and reviewed it. We accept and will reply to any comments or critiques, but be gentle, as this is our first time into this world of Middle-Earth (and Buffy, for that matter).

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Buffy meets an unlikely race and her ultimate guide.

- - - - -

**Chapter 2**

**Lothlórien******

By Katrina Claire

- - -

_19 February 3019__ – Caras Galadhon_

It took Buffy a few hours to return to her senses after her first major shock of coming forth to a new world. When she finally stood and walked about the bed she'd been set upon, she took in her surroundings for the first time.

"Where is this place?" she asked no one in particular, for none were present with her. She had heard mutterings of Mithrandir and she was quite anxious to meet the one person she was supposed to know. Except for the woman, whom she didn't know, no one else had spoken to her. She was starting to feel annoyed with Whistler and the Powers who had left her in this land with no knowledge or understanding. She felt confused and lost even though she felt as though she'd been in this place before, even if it wasn't possible. Or was she simply going out of her mind?

There was a soft wind blowing through the trees, and the sounds of song were heard far above her. She glanced up and was surprised to see naught but tree-limbs swaying. Glancing down, she received her second shock; she was at least thirty feet above the ground. Taking a sharp breath, she moved back to the bed and sat down upon it, her head spinning. Was this some sort of prison?

"You are new to this land," a soft masculine voice said from somewhere beneath her. Buffy watched as a tall figure emerged from some sort of ladder and approached her, his arms at his sides. At first sight, he was very tall. He was also wearing a glowing robe of sorts, and his hair was as long as the woman's had been. Realizing she was being rude by refusing to answer, she nodded. "I am Celeborn, lord of the Galadhrim. This is my dwellings."

Buffy glanced up to avoid his ever-steady blue-eyed gaze and found herself watching soft white lights twinkling above. "It's very… nice here, wherever we are. Where am I?"

"You have come to Lothlórien, Merilin," he replied, opening his arms as a gesture of welcome. "You have been brought by Gwaihir to these dwellings with Mithrandir."

She leapt back to her feet, and immediately wished she hadn't; she felt the branches sway and latched onto her bedpost, which was nothing more than a twig on this vast tree. "Mithrandir," she breathed with a nervous twitch as she eyed the ground far below. "He knows who I am, right?" She raised her head, hoping this lord would understand her question.

"At this moment, he does not," the female voice replied. Buffy's head snapped as she looked behind her and there, standing in the same ethereal gown and cloak, was the woman. "Mithrandir has yet to awaken. I shall enjoy hearing your tale as soon as I speak. I am Galadriel, Lady of this Golden Wood."

"It's… I'm pretty sure it'll be a pleasure to meet you, but I'm not used to waking up in waving trees… and I'm quite nervous because I don't have boat-legs."

"Your dialogue is not known to us, Merilin," Galadriel replied, taking a few steps closer to the strange blonde-haired woman. "I believe we have much to learn from one another."

"Why do you call me that… that name?" Buffy asked with a nervous chuckle. Being surrounded by two people that, far taller than she was, in gowns that were not unlike what a priest may wear, were unhinging her already fragile nerves. Not to mention the fact she was trapped thirty feet above the ground on a branch. It was provoking her into asking stupid questions, but she really didn't know what to ask. She was intimidated, the first time she had been since she'd found out the First evil was after her, that much was for certain.

"I call you that because you have come to us in the darkness of night," Galadriel replied. "It is not your given name, no. It is one we have chosen to call you until you have given your own to us."

Buffy realized just then that they didn't have a clue who she was. "Okay… I'm… Buffy. Buffy Summers."

"That name is unusual," Celeborn replied calmly as he joined the woman's side. Galadriel reached out and took the arm Celeborn offered her.

"Tell me about it," Buffy said, mentally kicking herself for not going with the name she had chosen for herself not five minutes (or was it five thousand years?) before. "Please, call me Anne."

"That name is more common to this land," Galadriel replied, extending a pale hand towards the newcomer. "You are human, yet I can see there is power there, strength besides. When you tell us your tale, you will tell of this."

"I'll… try," Buffy said with a timid smile. She had no idea why she was so unnerved around these two. She had never been one for shyness or timidity. But since she was in their dwellings as a perpetual stranger, it was probably far better off to become less aggressive and hostile than not. "Will you tell me when Mithrandir wakes up? I have to talk to him."

"We will inform you when that occurs," Galadriel replied as Buffy finally reached out and grasped her hand. "Now that our formalities have ceased, perhaps you would care to tell us where you have come from and your business in these lands."

"Of course," Buffy said quickly, and set out after the Lord of these lands. After following him rather ungracefully down the rope ladder, her feet hit solid ground and she bit back her longing to kiss it. From this angle, many feet from where she was before, she could fully appreciate the beauty of dwelling in such a fantastic place. It took her a prod to move, but as she did, she couldn't help uttering "Oh!" every time she passed another sight that held her gaze.

It didn't take long for Buffy to recall the tale of her passing. Galadriel knew and had foreseen most of it, and she quietly listened with a patient expression until Buffy had finished speaking. Glancing down, she felt slightly foolish telling them of her great powers when it was obvious of their own. Those they had passed had bowed before the Lord and his Lady, and all looked upon the shorter woman between them as a stranger to their home.

"Who are they?" Buffy asked as they were joined by guards, many of whom looked upon her with suspicion. They were all tall and dressed in priest robes, but they all had long hair (at first she may have mistaken them for hippies despite the obvious lack of the smell of weed about them) and the tips of their ears were pointed. They also spoke to one another in a language Buffy was certain she'd never heard before, and she'd heard a lot of them. She had, after all, lived in Los Angeles.

"They are the Elf-guards to the March-warden. They carry their reservations, for not many from the outlands have crossed into our realm. Mithrandir will have much to teach you once he has risen, for he, too, has suffered a death like yourself. He has been returned to this world to continue his path to rid the world of the darkness."

"Can you guys explain that to me?" Buffy asked with a slight frown. "I don't know what's going on in this world, because no one has really told me anything. Until I met you, that is."

"You know nothing of Frodo, the Fellowship and the Ring of Power?" Celeborn asked her, a sharpness in his voice.

"Nothing," she admitted, looking at him. He could read the truth in her eyes and cast his own gaze to Galadriel.

"She must be told, for not many will live long to tell such a tale."

Buffy sat eagerly on her perch, waiting to hear of a saga she knew was worthy of being called such, when a sharp voice cried out, and she found herself facing the cold silver edge of an arrow aimed for her neck.

She turned her hazel eyes from the weapon to its wielder, who stared at her with an arrogant azure gaze.

"She is a friend of the Galadhrim, one under the service of Mithrandir, Haldir," Celeborn said swiftly as the March-warden pulled his hilt down and lowered the bow at last. Buffy caught the arrow as it slipped from its string and returned it to its bearer.

"You've got skills," she said in a manner of a friendly greeting. Her smile faltered when the superior look on his face didn't change, and they appeared to stare one another down until she realized it was almost childish. Turning with a slight flush in her cheeks, she turned to Galadriel.

"You have come to us when our need is dire—"

"What do you know," Buffy said moodily. "Once again, I step in when the apocalypse comes." Galadriel gave her a soft look and Buffy promptly closed her mouth. "Sorry," she muttered.

"There are very few who do not know of the evil which has fallen across this land," Galadriel began. Haldir lowered his bow to the tree-limb and stood behind his Lord and Lady, as though protecting them from the force of a woman small enough to crush with a single blow. "It began with the fall of the Second Age, when a last alliance of elves and men marched upon the last of the servants of Morgoth, who was one of the Valar, the founders of Arda."

"Arda is the land in which we dwell," Celeborn explained at seeing the blank look upon Buffy's face. "King Elendil and Gil-galad, High King of Noldor marched their alliance upon Sauron, the servant of Morgoth. When the battle went ill, Sauron struck and killed Elendil, and it was his son, Isildur, who took up his father's sword and struck down Sauron."

"The story begins with the forging of the great rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desired power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race," Galadriel continued. "They were deceived by the Dark Lord Sauron, who created one ring, a master ring, to control all others. When Isildur struck down Sauron, the master ring fell to his hands. It was then that the strength of men fell."

Buffy listened very intently, as this was something she could understand. The story didn't end there; it continued on. "Isildur was overrun by the dark forces of orc from Mordor, and the ring fell into a pool, only to be discovered again two and a half thousand years after that time. It was found by Déagol, one of the hobbits from the River-land, on a day he spent with his cousin Sméagol. But the ring began to corrupt Sméagol and he took the life of his own kin to take it from him. For five hundred years, the ring waited for a time when its master would call to it."

Galadriel continued on. "The ring abandoned Gollum, as Sméagol was now called, and it fell into the hands of a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. A hobbit is a Halfling, one perhaps slighter than yourself. It was held by him, bringing him the appearance of unnatural youth. It was only when Mithrandir, whom many of us know as Gandalf, saw the ring for what it was. It was taken by a cousin of Bilbo, Frodo Baggins, and he was told with a fellow Hobbit to take the ring to Bree. At this hour, there was darkness spreading. Gandalf went to seek the counsel of the highest of his Order, the Wizard Saruman the White. But Saruman had been corrupted by the palantír, a seeing stone of old and evil. Once he deciphered that the Ring of Power had been found, he turned against Gandalf.

"Saruman bore Gandalf away and renounced the ways of old. There he held Gandalf the Grey into the Tower of Orthanc. He tore apart the gardens of Isengard and began creating an army for Sauron."

"But I thought you said this Sauron was dead," Buffy said, confusion darkening her eyes.

"The body of Sauron fell, but the spirit of the Dark Lord endured," Celeborn said quietly. Buffy turned to him, taking in the ghostly look in his eyes. "Long has he held power over many of the free peoples of Middle Earth. Long has he had many to call upon in times of battle. And long will he use the power of the seeing-stone for his own ill-will. He has command over the spirits of the nine Kings of men, led by the Witch-king of Angmar. They are known as the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths."

"Oh," Buffy said, frowning slightly as she continued to digest all of this. "Please, continue."

"At this time, Frodo and his kinsman, Samwise Gamgee, met with two of their other kin, a Brandybuck and a Took. The Nazgûl had taken up a prisoner of their own, Gollum, who had once possessed the ring. He gave enough way to send the Nazgûl after Bilbo Baggins, but they found the Ring instead in the care of his cousin, Frodo. The hobbits broke away from the nine and, with the intervention of the Elf-man Gildor, they fled to Bree. But Gandalf was nowhere to be found. Instead, they came across Strider, a Ranger from the North, one of the last of the Dúnedain, a race of men with unnatural long lives which take after a race long since passed. He led them into the woods, pursued by the nine."

Buffy could see it in her head, now. She could see four little men, smaller than herself, running away from nine insane-looking men as tall as Galadriel and Celeborn, clad in black, carrying large swords and speaking in tongues she had not yet heard of.

"The story continues. Gandalf bore away on Gwaihir and returned to Rivendell, a haven of the elves led by Lord Elrond. Strider led the hobbits to Weathertop, a guard tower of old, when Frodo was struck by the Morgul blade of the Witch-king of Angmar. Such was his injury that it was necessary for Elvish medicine. Strider bore them into the wilderness, when they came across Glorfindel, of the land of Elrond, who bore him upon a horse and sent him into the wild. Lord Elrond and Gandalf called for a flood and the nine were swept away.

"Frodo awoke in Rivendell to see his mentor Gandalf had returned. Frodo was then reunited with his cousin Bilbo, who gave to him a sword of the finest Elvish standard and a chainmail made from the precious mithril. Lord Elrond called a summons in which many would come to this council; the Steward-son of Gondor, a man they called Boromir. There were elves from the Mirkwood, led by the Prince Legolas. Gimli, son of Glóin, came to represent the Dwarves. All of the races of Middle Earth were bound to the fate of the one Ring, as they had been three thousand years before."

"It was revealed to all that Strider was none other than Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor," Celeborn continued briskly. "Legolas revealed that Gollum had escaped his imprisonment under the wood-elves. Gimli spoke of his own tale, the nine calling upon 'Baggins' and 'Shire', the only two words fit from Gollum once he had been tortured."

Buffy glanced down, biting her lip. There was so much to take in. It was so very hard to believe, considering she had been in this world all of one hour now. She had a feeling there was more to this story, and Galadriel continued it.

"Elrond called upon these races of Middle Earth to bring the one Ring to the fires of Mount Doom, where the power of the Ring could only be destroyed. It was Frodo of the Shire, a mere hobbit, who claimed this task, and a fellowship of nine was born: Frodo and his two kinsmen and the faithful Samwise, Gandalf the Grey, Boromir and Aragorn of Gondor, Legolas and Gimli, son of Glóin. They set out upon the snowy peak of Caradhras. Saruman had foreseen this and drove them to the paths under the mountain. It was there that they met a Balrog, a demon of fire. Battling their way through the Orcs of Moria, Gandalf the Grey fell while defeating his foe, the Balrog of Moria." At this, Galadriel cast her gaze downward, and for a fragile second, a shadow of grief passed over her features. "Aragorn led the others on, and unto this land they came for protection."

Haldir finally withdrew his gaze from the young woman's face. "They asked me to take them into Lothlórien, although the Halfling brought with him a great evil in the Ring. Still, he carried this burden and stood before this Lord and Lady, pledging their Fellowship would survive despite the fall of the ninth."

"We bore them all with gifts and they set off down the River of Anduin. They did not know, however, that Saruman had sent the Uruk-hai, bred from goblins and the orc of old, to strike down the Fellowship and to bring to him the Ring of power and the Halflings who possessed it," Celeborn said, before he took a deep breath and fell silent.

Buffy watched all three curiously before interrupting the silence with, "Is that it? Is that all?"

"The Fellowship has broken and Boromir, son of Gondor lays wasted," Galadriel replied. "Frodo and Samwise have continued the journey across the Eastern Shores and are passing under the Emyn Muil. They go for Mordor to destroy the Ring. Their kindred have been taken by the Uruk-hai of Saruman and as I speak to you on this passing, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli follow, although their hope is waning that they will reach their Halfling fellows before they reach the Circle of Isengard. This much we can see from the gift of foresight.

"They do not yet know that Gandalf has been returned to this world, to stand for what Saruman could not do; defy the power of the Ring and to give counsel to those who seek to supplant its power. This is where your tale begins, and the story will continue on unto the ending of this world."

At this, Galadriel, too, fell silent, gazing at the younger woman. "What age are you?" she inquired.

"Nearly twenty-three," Buffy said defensively, folding her arms before her. She noted the look exchanged by the Lord and Lady, and the March-warden gave a great sigh and took a step away from them.

"You are young, Merilin, and should not have to carry the weight of this world."

"I've done it before," Buffy shrugged. "I can do it again. It's what I do. It's what I am."

With this, she started into her second story, the tale which described the Slayer. She had a feeling they could already assess her power, but she wasn't about to deny herself the satisfaction of telling them she was more than just a short girl with a fear of heights on a wobbly tree branch with a bad temper.

"There is one girl in the entire world that was chosen to stand against the forces of darkness," Buffy began. "I was the one who was chosen, until my first death and another preceded me. My final battle… we took the power of one weapon and gave many girls the same power, so now we're all chosen. I'm not the only girl in the world that is a Slayer."

"We have heard of the Dagnir, but have never met with one," Celeborn assured her. Buffy glanced at him in surprise.

"Are there Slayers in this world?" she asked curiously.

"There is now," Galadriel said, adopting Buffy's dialect for one brief moment before settling her gaze on the brilliant ring adorning her hand. She noticed Buffy's gaze and held her hand up for the younger woman to see. "This is Nenya, one of the three rings bestowed upon the elves. Elrond carries the second, and Círdin bears the third, although he has entrusted this ring to Gandalf."

"It's a very pretty ring," Buffy said quietly.

"Its purpose was meant to be used for a great power," Galadriel said quietly as she rose again and extended her hand to the younger woman. "Come. You are hungered from your journey and have many questions to ask. I will bring you to the company of the Elves, and you shall know their lives and their duty, for it is not unlike your own."

Buffy followed Galadriel beneath a great archway and glanced at the clearing before them. Silver lights had been erected now that it was past twilight. There was a darkness overhead that bit into her skin, chilling her to the bone. It had nothing to do with the temperature of the air.

She felt sheltered in these trees and was comforted by the sounds of the Elf-song from above, a woman's voice gently falling upon them. Leading her down to where many others stood, Galadriel left her there with the March-warden before leaving to check on Gandalf.

Haldir still grasped his bow and Buffy took a keen interest in it. She had always loved a good weapon, and this weapon was beautifully crafted and was sealed with ancient runes embroidered upon its curved head. He noticed her eyeing it and explained where it had come from and how it had been made in the highest of quality.

"Can I hold it?" she asked, looking almost ashamed to ask this question to someone so much larger and colder than she was, one who had barely spoken three lines to her. Yet he held out his arm, allowing her to touch the handle and tweak the bow-string.

"I like weapons," she said with a grin. Seeing that she wouldn't harm his precious weapon, he released it and she took it in her own arms, lifting it as though to fire.

"You have dropped your elbow," Haldir said in his arrogant tone as she turned to him, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"You sound like my Watcher," she finally commented, returning the bow to its owner.

"Your Watcher? Was he not your guardian?" the March-warden asked calmly as he set his bow aside and reached for a basket upon a table. He pulled out a leaf and handed it to her. "Take this Lembas; one bite of this Elvish way-bread is enough to satisfy even the strongest of men."

Buffy pried open the leaf and noticed a flat bit of what looked like an enlarged saltine sitting on the glossy surface. She lifted the Lembas and bit a corner off, nearly choking when she realized how dry it really was. Swallowing hard, she gave the Elf a tight smile. "I don't suppose you would have any water, would you?"

He took a small clay jar and handed it to her. She took a grateful sip as the last of the bread slid down her throat. "Thanks," she said, setting the bread aside. While it had definitely done something to her stomach, it wasn't very satisfying. Her stomach was used to Doublemeat burgers and fried chicken parts, not Elvish bread probably made from the driest of flour. "And you asked about Giles… he was my Watcher. I suppose a Watcher is like a guardian to the Slayer. They train them and look after them and stuff, or at least, that's what my Watcher was to me. But mine was like my dad. Never really had one of those." She hid the bitterness in her eyes by glancing away.

Thinking about Giles was dangerous, she realized, as tears suddenly sprung to her eyes. She had no idea just how much she missed him, even though he was thousands of years into the future, and she had seen him not ten hours before.

"Did he fall in your passing battle?" Haldir asked, taking the jar from her trembling hands and setting it aside.

Buffy shook her head. "I was told that he lived. He always finds a way to get out of messy situations like that. That's why he's the best at what he does. I trust no one else."

"Being without him now much seems to be much more troublesome."

"You have no idea," Buffy said with a small smile. Suddenly, the prospect of eating more dry bread appealed to her, and she broke off a piece before sticking it in her mouth. "What about you, uh… sir? What do you do in Lothlórien?"

"I am the March-warden," Haldir replied as he watched her eat silently. "I protect the borders from the many foes who cast their darkness upon these lands."

"I'm guessing Middle Earth has a lot of enemies," Buffy said sadly as she swallowed another bite of Lembas before reaching for the leaf-sack again.

"None as potent as Sauron, I fear, although the power of Saruman grows as knowledge of the one Ring approaches from the south-east. If none but the heir of Isildur can reach them in time, I fear this world may be short-lived."

"And I thought I was the pessimist," Buffy muttered as she looked down. She really wished Haldir would stop staring at her, since his blue-eyed gaze was steady, strong and commanding. So, he was a General of his people, just as she had been with her own. At last she had found someone who understood her position wholly. She was about to ask about the protection of Lothlórien when Galadriel reappeared a host of others, announcing that Gandalf was awake at last.

"He remembers not his old name or strife, so call upon him as Mithrandir," Galadriel told her as they climbed into the highest of trees once again (Buffy forcing herself not to look down). Once they approached the top of the curving stairway, Buffy stepped underneath another archway and, to her surprise, found a tall man adorned in white robes, gleaming even more brightly than the pure light surrounding them. He bore a staff with his right hand, and his own blue-eyed gaze was steady as he eyed the woman standing across from him.

"You are not known to me," he said at last, leaning upon his staff. "I have come across many in my time, and you do not bear the arms or the recognition of one I have passed before."

Oh, crap.

"I'm new to this world," Buffy said quickly, even as Galadriel stepped before her.

"She is Merilin, one who has come to the call of your aide, as you have come to bear that which was once Saruman's," Galadriel said in her quiet, commanding tone. "I seek the truth of her eyes and she has given it to me; her virtue is true and she has revealed much to us in the time of your passing."

Mithrandir turned to the younger woman again, surprise showing on his weathered face. "You have come before me to aid?"

Buffy nodded. "I was sent to this world to help out some King, I think. My name is Buffy, but if you prefer to use Anne, it is also a name I was given when I was born." Damn, how she rambled when she was nervous. Here was another tall figure staring down at her as though she were a wayward child. How she longed to meet the Halflings in whose company she would not feel looked down upon.

"I sought the counsel of one with age and knowledge," Mithrandir finally said after a brief, awkward silence. "I can see in her eyes she holds neither."

Before Galadriel could speak, Buffy found her voice again. "I just spent the last seven years living on a Hellmouth. It's a mystical conversion of energy on a spot, and I spent seven years defending it. I've died three times now, and before I can go and rest in peace, I've been sent here to help you out. I didn't ask for this. I just died a few hours ago, and I don't understand what's happening to me! All I know is that I came up with a plan to save my world. And that's good enough for whatever Powers that thought of me for this position. I didn't ask for this," she repeated, crossly folding her arms. "I'm sorry if I'm speaking out or complaining, but I have a hell of a lot of knowledge, despite my age. I'm the only one of my kind, or I was for years. I think you know what that feels like."

Galadriel had been waiting for this, it seemed. She had stepped back to let Buffy take her own floor and speak her own mind. It seemed unfitting of a stranger to speak against a Wizard of immeasurable power, yet this small warrior chose to do so.

Mithrandir studied her face lined with pride and wisdom before relenting.

"They said you would tell me what I have to do to fulfill this promise I made to the Powers," Buffy said quickly, her rage spent. "I was told that this world doesn't have a lot of hope, and I just brought some to an army of girls, of children… and many lived to tell their own story." She smiled fiercely. "I may not be old enough to tell many stories, but I can tell you a good tale worthy of song and laughter." She paused. "If its one thing I know… it's that I'm not afraid to fight for what I believe in the most. I've already died three times. Death is not something I fear anymore. It just… happens."

"I do not remember ever asking for aid," Gandalf finally said, bowing his head. "I do not remember a great many things before my own passing, and for you to recount tales of your own is of great encouragement."

"If there's one thing I know how to do, it's to die fighting," Buffy said quietly. "You might not want to hear what I have to say, because even I don't like hearing what I say… but if you ever needed someone who loves weapons, now is the time I give myself freely to your… service."

For some odd reason, there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to get down on her knees. She bent down and bowed before Mithrandir, who looked upon her in a new light. Here was a child, unafraid of speaking out of turn and one that he could see had had many years in several battles. She bore the scars of these on her face, still unlined with youth, but bearing the darkness which had been passed over her. Instead of granting her the will to be at peace, she had been given this last task to do, and she was willing to see it done, by his will or not. He could see this much in her eyes.

"I will take you in my Service," Mithrandir replied at last. "There is much to be done." He turned to Galadriel, with who he'd already been at Council. She gave him her commanding nod and he turned to face the young woman.

"Merilin," he began, "there is a great deal to do as we leave this land. We must make haste for Rohan, for there lays the King you have been baited to give aid to."

So, he had known about her. He had just been testing her. Buffy arched one eyebrow in annoyance, but the Wizard continued to speak, and she forced herself to listen.

"I have the task of following Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to Elendil to Gondor, but with the most hopeless of men, you must remain, for battles you have fought and victory you have achieved. They have seen neither the lightness of victory nor the sweet air of peace in much time. Aragorn will bring them hope but with your counsel, you may bring them courage and strength of arms. I have been informed that you are skilled with many weapons of old."

"I like Haldir's bow," Buffy grinned.

Mithrandir gazed at her sternly as an Elf-man approached him, a tattered traveling cloak in his arms. "You will be given armaments, but fight as you know you must, they seek not just your bow-arm, but your observations and your strategy in battle." He pulled the weary cloak around him and took up his hat from the foot of the bed, his opposite hand never leaving the top of his staff.

"There are many dark times ahead, for all," Galadriel said in her mystic tone as she gazed at both Mithrandir, the Wizard of White and the young Buffy, a Dagnir of demons, who had come to them now when the great men of the world called for help. Although many might not trust a woman, it was only a matter of time before this Dagnir would prove herself in battle. "We must look to our own borders, but will aid those who seek our assistance if the time has come."

Gandalf was still preparing himself for night-travel when he realized the young woman standing before him looked weary and tired. "Sleep tonight, you will," he said. She gave him a grateful nod and turned to leave. "We will leave come morning and make haste across the Mark. I have dealings with the trees of old." He paused and regarded his staff. "I bid you farewell and good night. Get some rest, Merilin, for you will need it in the days ahead."

Buffy was only too happy to reply, "'Night!" before following yet another Elf-guide through the tree limbs until she found her own resting place beneath the trees again. It was then she realized she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn during her last battle with the First. Come daybreak, she was going to ask Galadriel for soap and a change of clothes, since she was fairly certain they might not accept a woman in pants and a rather fitting shirt for the job she had been asked to do. As she stripped down her garments, she spied the gash in her shirt where the blade from the Turok-han had penetrated her skin. Dropping the shirt, she touched the wound, but it had somehow been sealed. There was only a trace of the battle she'd left behind in her ruined top, but it was enough to remind her of where she had just come from. Setting her things aside, she wrapped herself in a cloak that had been given to her, and drifted off to sleep.

Morning came far too soon for her liking. Once she was jostled awake by the songs of the elves, she found one of the Elf-women and asked her for soap. Once she had been shown the springs, she bathed, relishing the feel of drawing a clean garment onto her thoroughly-scrubbed skin. A long gown and cloak had been provided for her and she pulled it on, admiring the way she looked in the glassy surface of the spring. She liked the long, white sleeves and the flowing green bodice. She pulled her blonde hair up as she pulled the cloak on over the dress, fastening it with a small clip she had found with the rest of the garments. She dropped her hair and stared at her reflection.

What a difference one day made. The day before she had been holding a scythe, preparing to take on the First evil and defeating him. The next day she found herself in a completely different setting, about to make way across some Mark and go to the aid of some King.

"Am I really ready for this?" she asked her reflection. "Am I ready to do this again?" So many lives had been lost under her leadership… Kendra, her Mother, Spike, not to mention the countless potentials, some of whom she buried in her lonesome. The thought of taking on a world which needed her guidance was unsettling. One day before she had given hope to an army of teenage girls. Today, she was taking on a world of men.

_Anything you say is going to sound like a goodbye_. Those had been Dawn's parting words. Well, she hadn't had the chance to say anything. But before Buffy could dwell on these thoughts, she heard the sound of a tree rustling and turned.

"You are leaving us soon," a quiet voice spoke and she turned to see an Elf-maiden walking towards her. She bore a comb and bands. Sitting down the younger woman, the maiden brushed and braided her hair. "It is fit for travel."

"Thanks," Buffy said, glancing once again at her reflection.

"You are most welcome," the Elf-maiden replied with a slight bow. "If you are to ride with Mithrandir, your time has come."

Turning away from her reflection, Buffy stared sadly at the garments strewn on the ground, to be left behind as she took the first perilous steps towards her new destiny.

Galadriel was waiting by the stairs and led her up and away. For what seemed like an hour they crossed under trees and through archways until they reached the edge of the wood. Mithrandir stood there with Celeborn giving him counsel. Celeborn noticed that the human woman had joined them and moved to greet her as Galadriel walked to bid farewell to the White Wizard.

"You look to be one of our kind, despite your height," Celeborn said, gesturing her forwards. "Swift feet will take you across the Nimrodel and into the Mark. I bestow these gifts upon you."

Buffy positively glowed when he handed her a sword, sparkling with a hilt embroidered with small emerald stones.

"I would offer a bow, but with your long journey south, I will not bear further hardship upon you."

Buffy lovingly swung her sword, approving the way it glittered in the bright sunlight. With the sword, he had given her Lembas bread (no matter how much she despised it, it could always be used as a talking-piece) and a dagger, one he said had been used by the Noldor in war before her time. She pulled on the belt and took the sack of bread, bowing low to the Lord of Galadhrim.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a brilliant smile as she sheathed her sword at last. She really had no idea how to address him. It was one of those things Gandalf was going to have to teach her, because in this world of formalities and proper English, she was desperately clueless. She could fake it, but that would completely give her away.

Celeborn bid her farewell and disappeared back into the darkness of the glowing tree-city which loomed before them. Galadriel and Gandalf joined her a moment later. Galadriel had one last package which she handed to the younger woman. "There is soap for your journey, and a comb bestowed upon the Elf-maiden you inquired about. I also bear you this." She released her clenched left hand and with her right, pulled out an ornate ring. "Long has it been in my House, and so I bestow it to you, as a sign of hope and of the good faith you will instill upon the dominion of man." Taking a step back, Mithrandir stood by the side of the Slayer, both turning as one to glance at the Lady of the Wood, who lifted her hand to bid them farewell.

"Farewell, I say to you! May our paths cross again once this doom of our time has ended!"

Turning, she and Mithrandir set off across the beautiful plain of Lórien, led by the March-warden and his guards, who saw them to the edge of the forest before saying their own goodbyes.

Now in an open plain, she and Gandalf raced across the greens, the older man moving swiftly for someone of his age. Above them, a bird soared, leading them to their destination.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the sky.

"Gwaihir, the lord of the eagles," Mithrandir replied, lifting his weathered head to see the eagle above them. "He has rescued us both from oblivion and brought us to Lady Galadriel."

"I'm glad I met her," Buffy said finally.

"As am I, Merilin. As am I."

- - - - -

_Elvish_ -- English

_Merilin_ – Nightingale a bird that flies by night

- - -

In the next chapter, Buffy takes a walk through Fangorn and gets to know her guide a little bit more.

_Edited 11/3 - clarification of Samwise's status._


	3. The Dark Forest

**Miscellaneous**

Answers: To _Anyanka__ of the Ocean's_ question about Frodo being the nephew of Bilbo, he was more adopted as a nephew. They are, in essence, second cousins. At least according to the family tree we have looked at... and looked at... and looked at some more. And the name they call her is **Merilin**, there is an 'i' in the middle there, not **Merlin**. I think it's pronounced like Marilyn or Merry-lynn. Something like that.

Pairings: Some of you actually got it. It wasn't that hard to wheedle down, considering we could add all the Original Characters (OCs) we wanted and it still wouldn't make a difference. We'll tell all when the couple gets more apparent.

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the book.

Pickers: Yes, there is the occasional person who will just sit there and tear something apart. It hasn't been done to this one yet (thank god), but, yeah... we know our Buffy is kind of OC right now. How would YOU feel if you got dropped off in a past world and were suddenly in some Elvish paradise? And Buffy will loosen up. I should probably say that between the two of us, we've seen more than likely a grand total of seven episodes of the show (season 7 ones to boot). Now go blame 'she-who-must-not-be-named' for making us write a Buffy crossover.

Thank You's: Thanks to those of you who've read and continued reading this story! It's great pleasure to know you actually like it! And to those of you who reviewed my chapter, a special thanks to you all! We really enjoyed (to an extent) writing this piece... and... we invite you to either enjoy it or don't, but it was written for our love of the plot, and nothing else, really.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Buffy sees talking trees and guys riding pretty horses as the story takes a jump into hyperdrive.

Chapter Warning: This is one of those chapters that actually uses dialogue and stuff from the book, just so you know.

- - - - -

**Chapter 3**

**The ****Dark****Forest******

By Katrina Claire

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They had been traveling for three days time before Gandalf allowed them both a full night's rest. Buffy warily took it, for their road had been lined with dangers not seen before in her time. She hadn't ever come across an Orc, but now that she had taken them on, she did not desire to do so again. They were foul, loathsome creatures who stank and bled black blood. It wasn't a pretty sight, especially when she had to uncover most of her Lembas just to banish the blood from the blade of her sword with their leaf-coverings. "This stinks," was her first comment after she'd scrubbed at her sword for hours. She had been commenting on the stench.

It was this night that they came to the edge of the forest. It was very dark and the thought of going in there was so unappealing that Buffy started to walk along side the trees, but was called back. The quickest way to Rohan was through Fangorn Forest. As they passed, Gandalf told her of the forest and why many feared it.

"The lords of the forest are the Ents, long-time shepherds of this forest. They have been for many ages a power and a force to be reckoned, but have fallen silent as of late," Mithrandir began as they slowly moved southwest towards Rohan. "The younger trees are wild, and they grow around those who have memories of old. Many have been lost in this war, and many more will fall before the end." Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff and gazed above them. "They have far more wisdom than even the wisest of us can hope to bring. The Elves came into the forest many ages ago, and brought these trees to life."

There was a moaning in the woods ahead of them and Buffy froze; her heartbeat racing erratically until she began to realize that fearing trees that were old and had long survived probably thousands of years of war was a very foolish thing to do. She had been taught to respect the powers of those she didn't understand (Giles for one) and from that moment on, she found that she could respect this power. The trees swayed about them as they stopped to rest on that third night, but it was upon waking up their fourth morning in this forest did she see something that terrified her.

It was a tree. And it was talking.

She gasped and sat up, pulling her cloak tightly about her. "Mithrandir?" she called out softly as she stood up, fastening her cloak quickly and with fumbling fingers.

The Wizard turned to her and inclined his head. "A great league of Uruk-hai approaches from the south. You are less than a day's march full-speed to the Entwade. Treebeard," he gestured to the large tree blinking benignly down at her, and she stifled another squeal, "has spoken of the Rohirrim, which are pursuing these Uruk-hai. You can meet with them in less than a day if you will go on your way."

"You want me to go away?" she asked blankly. Somehow, waking up to see a talking tree and listening to Gandalf telling her she had to turn around and walk away from them was almost frightening. She let out an anxious chuckle, yet nodded nevertheless. "I can… I guess."

"We will meet at Edoras, in the Hall of the King," said Mithrandir, watching as she lifted her belt and re-fastened her cloak. At last she was ready. The tree Mithrandir had called Treebeard was still blinking down at her. "Speak word of me to no one, as all shall be revealed in its own due course."

"You will have safe passage through this path," said the mighty tree, towering fourteen feet in the air, far above her height.

She managed a quick nod. "Thanks," she said, smiling at both in parting before she turned and headed directly south along another path, the trees swaying above her head. When she would have found the notion daunting four days before when she had first entered this realm, she now found the sound comforting, and made to continue on her way.

What in the heck had that been? Were talking trees custom in this land? Or were they just… she couldn't believe it. She slayed demons and dusted vampires for a living. Seeing a talking tree was about the closest thing she'd come to a Chaos demon (which she hadn't seen but still had a very grotesque picture in her mind)… and still… what had just happened?

At long last, she saw the clearing ahead and it grew closer until she stood on the edge of the forest, feeling very much alone. At least she knew the trees, although silent, had been company for her. She knew from her own senses that they could sense her presence and more than likely her reluctance to follow Gandalf's bidding. But she had sworn to do what she could for this world, and if listening to an old Wizard was the new way of the world, she was to follow it.

It was then that her senses picked up something else. There was rapid movement, and it was coming from the west. She pulled out her sword and drew back into the forest, despite the murmurings of protest from the trees around her.

"Unless you guys can jump out and save me, I'm gonna be dead a lot sooner than I thought I would be," she muttered as she drew back against one of the trees. "I promise I won't hurt you."

It was then she saw them. They were large creatures, as foul as the ones she and Mithrandir had slain. Dropping her pouch of Lembas, she turned, hidden in the shadows but silently observing a large score of them as they continued on their journey.

It was then that she saw something else that surprised her. Being worked by whips and chains, two smaller beings were forced along with the others. Her jaw dropped open; these must be the Halflings that Galadriel had spoken of. They were the ones in danger of being caught by this Saruman Wizard and she knew that Gandalf didn't want it to happen. Even at this distance, she could sense their pain and their fear. She felt the same way, standing here in the shade of the protective forest, which was growing around her, shielding her from the darkness which was quickly hastening to the east. She waited until all movement had passed before sheathing her sword again. While she could have been rash and attacked them head-on, they outnumbered her a hundred to one, and she was only one small woman with a simple Elvish sword. She had no hope to take them on, even to rescue two Halflings. She was going to have to leave that up to Gandalf, unless she caught up with these Rohirrim quickly.

She stepped out from the trees after midday, feeling even more alone as the walked along the edge of the southeastern tip of Fangorn Forest. It really wasn't as bad as Mithrandir had spoken of. These trees had much to be angry about, as the Wizard Saruman had been overseeing the forest. It was overrun with saplings now, young trees growing wild and caring less about the Ents that watched over them. Long had they been hunted, ignored and cut down. Smiling a bitter smile, she knew just how they felt.

It was closer to evening when she noticed that there was even more sound coming from behind. Turning, she spied horses, many horses, thundering across the great plain. She glanced at the forest, which seemed too far away; they may have spotted her by now. Yet, she turned to flee, running for the trees. Once she hid in their shadows, she stood, watching as the horsemen rode on.

They slowed down, much to her consternation. They were breaking a camp! This was no good… she had to get away! Her only option was to go back into the forest, and without a light or lantern, this seemed impossible. She could wait until these men had fallen to rest before taking a lantern from them… but that seemed too cowardly an act even for a Slayer.

What was a girl to do?

She didn't have long to wait. She saw that they wore some sort of armor designed with tiny silver links, and broad shirts which clanked when walking, which meant they were either made of metal, leather or both. Even their horses, tethered in the distance, wore armor. They had saddles and little metal helmets slipped over their noses, though they looked thoroughly disgruntled about being left in the spot at the present time. As she ventured out into the night, she listened to the men discussing the tracking of the score of Uruk-hai not three days from the Circle and protection of Isengard.

That was bad, Buffy assumed as she pushed a bit of tree aside to listen harder. She was thanking the Powers at this very moment for her listening abilities; she was learning much from standing here, eavesdropping.

One by one, the men dropped off to sleep. Feeling hungry and quite tired, Buffy felt around her belt for her Elvish way-bread, only to realize she'd left miles away. All that remained was the pouch containing her soap and her comb. Cursing herself, she pulled back deeper into the forest, searching for berries or anything to sustain her. If she didn't eat something, she would soon lose her strength and have no choice but to ask the men in this company for help before she passed out from hunger.

She found a spring not twenty yards in. Setting down her things, she undid her cloak and dress and decided to bathe (since she really had nothing else to do with her time at that moment) quickly as the trees spoke and sang their gentle wind-song above her. Dressing again in the darkness, she managed to fasten her cloak. Supposing that all were asleep by now, since it was reaching the middle of the night, she snuck forward through the wild saplings and into the clearing.

All of the horses were tethered and blinked at her, snorting and stomping their hooves. Feeling extremely apprehensive, Buffy snuck in behind them and walked around a great pit of fire, where many men lay sleeping on the cold ground. She was about to step onto their camp when a cold hand clasped her upper arm and dragged her backwards. She let out a startled cry, only cutting it off when she realized she was alerting others to her presence. Several of the men awoke with grunts as Buffy was dragged into the circle and thrown onto the ground before the fire.

It was then she could see the face of her attacker. Her eyes widened when she saw that he was a tall man in broad red armor. He held a sword in his hand, which was tipped beneath her chin. It seemed as though his eyes had widened and he nearly dropped his sword. He didn't recognize her, yet she looked as though she could be from his land.

Buffy was smart enough to not say anything that would get her seriously killed. She held her tongue and refused to break eye contact with the man that towered above her, his sword now held stead-fast at his side.

"Who are you and what are you doing on this land?" he asked in a deadly tone, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword ever tighter. Buffy swallowed hard. This was her moment, now or never.

"I can't say who I am," she said in a loud voice, as the fire crackled loudly in her ears. "I've been looking for the...." Here, she faltered, since she couldn't remember what the Wizard had said. And it sounded even more intelligent when all she could do was trail her words off into oblivion. "Could you turn the pointy-end of that thing the other way?"

The man had not yet released his gaze. "You bear the cloak of the Elf-kind, yet you are not one of them?" he asked in a haughty tone.

Men were gathering around them now, many muttering, their swords drawn and pointed at the young woman lying in front of the pit of fire before them. She straightened slightly and moved her own sword, which had been digging painfully into her hip. "I'm so not an Elf-kind," she replied, trying to mimic the language used by both Galadriel and Mithrandir. "I'm human."

"Where is this land where you come from?" another man asked, approaching her, his sword raised threateningly. "Speak!"

Gandalf had told her to tell the men of the country nothing but her name. She was getting really close to defying these orders, especially as they hadn't yet pulled their swords away from her.

"I'm from that way," she said at last, pointing towards the trees. It was true, somewhat; she had come from Lórien, which laid somewhere on the other side. "I'm looking for a-a Row-here-em."

There was an audible silence from around her and she glanced around at all of them before getting to her feet. Many moved back and lifted their swords in the case she might try to escape, and looked quite amused at the thought of detaining her.

"I'm… Anne," Buffy continued quickly. "I have been walking through the edge of the forest. Earlier today, I saw a bunch of really ugly men moving quickly that way." She pointed her thumb over her shoulders. "And I heard you guys talking about following a trail of Orc through—"

"Enough of this," the second man said, striding forward and looking her in the eye. "We do not seek spies of Saruman."

This was so going to get worse unless she did something. She smiled up at him, desperately hoping he had the sights that the Elf-kind did, and could see the truth in her eyes. "I am no spy," she replied coolly. He stepped back as the first man stepped forward, sheathing his sword.

"What do you carry?" he asked, pulling her roughly from the fire. Buffy reached down and pulled out her sword and handed it to him. She had to show that she wasn't dangerous and to do that, she was willing to do whatever they asked her to do. After a quick inspection in the flickering light, he nodded to the other pouches upon her belt. "What else do you carry?"

Buffy, with a sigh, pulled out her Elvish soap and the comb the Elf-maiden had given her once she had fixed her hair. Buffy realized that her hair was still mostly damp and it clung uncomfortably to her face, since she had neither the time nor the patience to put it back up again.

The men were staring at her incredulously now. Many exchanged bemused smiles

"How far have you traveled?" the first man asked, inspecting her sword more closely now.

"Eight days… on foot," Buffy said with a slight moan.

"There is blood on this sword," the man replied, holding it out for the others to see. "It is Orc blood." He raised his eyes to her. "Have you fought against the Uruk-hai and challenged them in your solitary?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

Their expressions were rapidly changing from incredulity to disbelief.

She looked each one of them in the face before turning back to the man who had caught her. Judging by the way the others regarded him; he was to be their leader. "I'm a strong woman," she said coolly. "I know how to fight."

"What do we do with her, my Lord?" the second man asked of the first.

"We have not the time to return her to Meduseld," the first replied, still staring at the woman, who finally drew herself up to her full, yet paltry, height and met his challenging gaze straight-on. "She will come with us until we return to Edoras."

"That's where I was going in the first place," Buffy said, thoroughly annoyed now.

"Edoras is a long ride and you have taken on such a burden as it is," the first man said to her, finally pulling his gaze aside. "We are tracking the Uruk-hai that you have spotted earlier." She nodded her understanding, and he felt as though he should continue. "I am Éomer, son of Éomund, and am called the third Marshal of the Riddermark."

Buffy, not having a clue what this meant, nodded again. "I already said I was Anne. They call me Merilin, but I don't know what it means, really."

"We should leave her here!" a third man called out. "Having a woman in camp is dangerous."

Éomer was staring at her again, and this time she didn't pull her gaze away. "She will come with us; she is in great danger to be left behind, and will tire quickly on such journey. Many enemies run unchecked through the Riddermark and I would not be pleased to see a woman fall when she could have been under the company of my own éored."

He turned to her and said in the same, sharpened tone, "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head and after a hasty introduction to his lieutenant, a man called Éothain, she was seated in the midst of man unblinking men staring at her as she ate the remains of their cold supper.

If she had once thought it to be a party to be in the company of so many men, especially ones as tall and good-looking as these were, she was grievously mistaken. They were very cold towards her, and she didn't really understand why. Well, maybe she did. She was a stranger walking through a place that Éomer had said was crawling with enemies. If only she could tell them Gandalf was there, but he had asked her not to say a word until he arrived at Edoras, and unless these men really threatened to kill her, she wasn't going to go against her own word.

It was a chilly night and she pulled her cloak around her, closing her eyes to rest, even as light was starting to appear on the horizon. After a few hours of lousy sleep, she was shaken awake by Éothain, who stared at her contemptuously before helping her to her feet. "We will ride early," he said unperturbedly. She nodded and gathered her things, feeling even more out of place. They were all still staring at her, only now they could judge her by the sunrise. Fastening her cloak, she took the last few precious moments to braid her hair and get it out of her face before the horsemen pulled out.

It was Éomer who bore her on his own steed and swiftly they rode out, the forest falling away. It was uncomfortable to ride in front of him, yet she did so without complaint, no matter how hard the harness and the saddle hurt her backside. They stopped only twice and by nightfall they saw bright fires lit on the next hill; they had closed in on the enemy. Feeling as though her heart were in her throat, she sat picking at her unappetizing dinner while listening to the riders make plans on how to surprise the enemy come midnight.

Seeing the Third Marshal alone by the horses, she swallowed the end of the stew and moved forward so she could speak with him in private. She didn't want to be overheard, especially since all they did was scowl and gaze at her. He turned when he heard her footfalls and glared at her, but didn't say anything.

"I, uh, heard what you were planning on doing," she said quickly, pulling out the sword he'd returned to her before they broke camp. "I could help you, you know, if you asked for it."

"If we need your services, my lady, I would ask you before the eve of battle," he said, his eyes glittering in the flickering firelight. "I can ask no more of you." Stepping past her, he returned to the camp, leaving Buffy feeling confused. Had he just refused an offer? From her? She was the Slayer! This was her life, her role, her destiny… she had never been turned down before… until now.

They were discussing battle plans when she returned. Not one of them looked at her as she sat calmly. They were talking about going through the southern-most edges of the forest to circle about and surprise the Uruk-hai head-on. Buffy secretly supported this plan, but didn't voice her opinions. She wasn't there to plan this battle, no. They saw her as a mere refugee seeking protection with the fast-paced Rohirrim. She smirked at the looks she could see on their faces when they at last figured out who she was. Finally, they all rose as one and clasped hands.

Then, they broke out their heavier armor. She noted the stack of shields and spears. Bending down, she lifted one up and observed it, taking a few expert swings before replacing it on top of the others. With a small sigh, she returned to sit by the fire alone, watching as the men gathered their weapons and their horses.

"We will return for you," Éomer promised her in his deep voice. She didn't look at him, but felt his eyes on her back.

After waiting a moment for a response he finally figured he wasn't about to get, he led the others off into the darkness.

At once, Buffy leapt to her feet, fastening her cloak with sudden speed. This wasn't her battle, but she wasn't about to let them push her out of it at all. She was still the Slayer and that had to count for something. Strapping on her belt, she sheathed her sword and dagger, pulling her cloak over them. Glancing at the remaining traces of the camp, she turned and headed into the forest, following the path the others had taken.

It took her not one hour to come across the end of the line, as the horses were moving far too slow to make any sound to alert their enemy of their approach. Midnight was approaching, as the sky above them was now pitch-black, even out of the cover of the dark forest surrounding them. It was comforting to be in here again, knowing that even though their eyes spied her, at least they weren't scowling and saying how unfit she was to be in such a place, as she had been privileged to most of this day.

If they only knew the truth of what she really was and her true reasons for being in this land.

The horses sprang suddenly, and in the wild chaos, Buffy pulled out her sword and leapt into battle, running over the small bits of field grass until she noticed the flank of Orc falling to the swords of the horsemen. She didn't spot the two Halflings crawling on the ground behind her, but she did see the Uruk following them out. She sprang at him from a crouch, snarling as she drove her sword from shoulder to shoulder and kicking him aside. Seeing her as a formidable prey, the other Orc around her attacked. It was the chance she had been waiting for.

She fought with the skill and agility of her previous self, kicking and sparring to the best of her abilities as the Orc bodies piled around her. It was only when she noticed a horse heading straight for her without a rider to its back did she realize how out of control she must have seemed… what if all of the men had been wiped out. She would have turned to run from the wild beast, but a hand shot out of nowhere and pulled her upwards.

"Ride with me, Lady of the North," a quiet voice said in her ear and she nodded, holding her sword out as they swung back into battle. With both of them riding, he could easily steer as she sparred, taking down one Orc after another. When it was clear that many had fallen, most of the men turned back to see both horses and their kin on the ground, dead. What they didn't expect to see was one last attack on a sole white steed in the center. As the horse and its riders toppled over, they both rose as the beast rolled and continued to fight.

"Onwards!" Éothain cried out as the charge was sounded.

Buffy stood over the injured man, who had been fallen by a blade to the shin. He clutched at his leg as she fought above him, finally thrusting her sword through the chest of the final Orc before panting with exhausting and falling to her knees beside the injured man.

This was an older man she saw as she removed his helmet, cradling his head in her hands. "I knew when I saw you that you were no ordinary woman…" he rasped out as his eyes started to roll.

"You're not gonna die on my watch," she said, grabbing a cloak from the ground and wrapping it around his freely bleeding leg. "You saved my neck… don't you dare die on me."

Éomer and the rest of his men were now circling the camp and piling the bodies of the dead. Buffy remained at the side of the man rapidly bleeding to death, until she realized the flow of blood had been stemmed. She helped him to his feet, and only at the sharp gasp behind her did she turn to face Éothain.

"She has ridden into battle!" the Lieutenant called out, looking astounded. Éomer joined him, his chainmail vest covered in the black Orc blood.

"Thus she has," Éomer replied darkly, seeing the look of concentration on her face. "What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached them. Two men came and took the injured from her, but not before he had the chance to utter she had saved his life.

"I told you to remain at the camp."

"I am not one of your girls that you can just boss around!" she shouted back. "I don't do service to you or to anyone in this country, so give it up already!"

"Thus, you are a spy for Saruman!" Éothain replied, drawing out his sword.

Buffy pulled out her own rapier in the blink of an eye and held it out to him. "Put it down," she said in a voice of cold-chipped steel.

"My lord, this is madness!" the injured man cried as he was placed upon a surviving mount. "She has fought for Rohan and at the risk of her own life!"

Éomer turned to regard the woman, who still held her sword aimed at his first lieutenant, who was unyielding. "Lay down your arms," he said at last, staring at Éothain, although his comment was too directed at the young woman who stood there in her own rage. "Do as I say!"

They both pulled their swords away and sheathed them, blatant mistrust on each of their faces as they turned and continued about their tasks. Buffy turned and continued to help drag bodies to a large heap. Once they had all been collected, they were set ablaze. They made their plan to ride for the Entwade (which Buffy had no idea about) and then would turn south towards Edoras. Leading her forward, Éothain reluctantly gave her the reins and armaments of one of the men who had once rode upon the mare. "Take great care; she is yours to ride now."

Buffy, who had never been horseback riding before, found herself the center of attention even in the pre-dawn light as she scampered aboard her horse. As she sat on top of the mare, which snorted and darted sideways under the body of an unfamiliar host, she pulled on a helmet and a pair of thick leathery gloves; and wrapped herself in the Rohirric cloak. Even as they took off in the direction they had come from, she barely remembered the two Halflings she had seen just the day before.

It was around midday when the thundering of hooves was heard over the hills. Buffy was riding to the rear, as the events of the night before had tired her out greatly. Being the Slayer, she had insurmountable strength. But that didn't mean she was invincible by any means. The injured, a man called Hálas, rode beside her, attempting to engage her in conversation. She discovered through their brisk ride that his daughter had been killed by the Dunlanders upon his family's return to Edoras from the North. It was a sad story to hear and one that reminded her of Kendra falling to Drusilla. In as few words as possible, she told this story, saying that she knew of a powerful woman cut down by another in a battle of wills and of dark forces.

As they charged down yet another hill, she was caught unawares when a loud voice from behind them shouted, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"

As one, the entire column doubled back, lifting their spears. Buffy turned her horse with great care before following the others, all of whom were circling three solitary figures, their spears tipping towards their center. Buffy and the last of the column pulled a second circle, yet her spear was aimed straight at the heart of… he had to be an Elf. No one could be that tall with those pointed ears and not be considered as such. She held her tongue as Éomer charged forward.

"Who are you and what are you doing in this land?" he demanded of the three, who looked unconcerned despite the fact that there were nearly seventy spears aimed at them, and nearly another thirty bows were cocked and ready to fire. "Speak quickly!"

Someone that she couldn't see stepped forward. She tried to edge her mare aside, but the horse was unwilling to follow her meager attempts to move it, and she sat on her steed, instead listening to the voice.

"I am called Strider," a masculine voice said. "I come out of the North. I am hunting Orcs."

Buffy's eyes widened. Was this the same Strider Galadriel had spoken of? She blinked and held her tongue; she would ask her questions later, once Éomer stopped playing evil-Rambo-on-horseback.

"At first I thought you were Orcs," Éomer replied. "But now I see that it is not so. Had you taken them on, you would have gone from hunter to prey as they would have outnumbered you. And you yourself are a strange man, for no man called Strider would have your own. Where have you come from?" His eyes turned upon their Elvish cloaks. "And are you of Elf-kind?"

"No," said Strider. "Only one of us is an Elf. This is Legolas of the distant Mirkwood. We have passed through Lothlórien, and the Lady of the Golden Wood has presented us with her favor and these gifts."

Éomer's eyes slid to the other two travelers. "They say that those who pass through the Wood never return. In her favor, you must be sorcerers to escape her nets. And you," he said, indicating the other two. "Why do you not speak?"

A deep, stout voice spoke from the center of the circle. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I shall give you mine and more."

"I am Éomer, son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of the Riddermark."

Buffy still had no idea what this meant.

The stout voice spoke up again, and Buffy could sense the anger radiating from him. "Then, Éomer, let Gimli the Dwarf Glóin's son warn you against your foolish words. You speak of the Lady as evil, and she is fair beyond your thoughts, and only your dim wit can excuse you."

There was a murmuring of malcontent as the riders closed in around these visitors. Éomer dismounted and stood before the three. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

"He is not alone!" said the Elf, who reached for his arrow and held it to his bow in less than the blink of an eye. "You would die before your stroke fell."

Éomer unsheathed his sword as the others closed in, but a figure stepped into Buffy's sight and she saw that he was a tall man. He put his hand up and stepped between them. "I ask for your pardon," he said quickly. "Will you hear us out before you attack?"

"I will," Éomer said, and lifted his hand. As one, all of the spears were lifted and the arrows were taken back to the hands of those with the bows. The horses backed away slightly as the Third Marshal returned to look at the three. Buffy could see them all clearly and hoped she appeared inconspicuous enough to not be seen as anything but one of these riders from the South. If she didn't, she was as good as dead. "First, tell me your right name."

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Elendil and bearer of Andúril, the _flame of the west_, in which the shards of Narsil have been re-forged." Opening his cloak, he held up a sword to the bright light. At this, Éomer looked amazed, and he was not the only one. "I must ask of you, if you do not serve Saruman, whom then do you serve?"

"I serve not one except Théoden King, son of Thengel, the Lord of the Mark. Not idly do we allow passage to strangers of this land." He paused, and Buffy knew he must be thinking of her, some wayward traveler with a strange sword they'd just happened to pick up near the forest. "Our borders are threatened and more darkness crosses into this country by day. As for Saruman, he has poisoned the mind of the King, and the poison spreads. I must ask of you now: who do you serve? What are you doing on this land?"

"I serve no man," the one called Aragorn replied. "I pursue the servants of Saruman; they have taken captive two of my friends."

At this, Buffy's eyes widened and she remembered the Halflings. She bit back a gasp as she covered her mouth with her gloved hand.

"I will come with the host to speak with Théoden King, as war lies with Sauron or against him. I must first seek and pursue the orc-host which has taken my friends. What can you tell us?"

"That you have no need to pursue them further," Éomer replied. "The Orcs are destroyed."

"And our friends?" Aragorn asked promptly.

"We found none but the Orcs," Éomer said. "None survived."

"We speak of Hobbits," said a smaller man, leaning heavily on a battle-axe. "Did you see two little Hobbits?"

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn said quickly.

"Hobbits?" Éomer asked inquiringly. "This is a strange name. And what may they be?"

"A strange name for a strange folk, but they are very dear to us," the Dwarf continued. "Those of Minas Tirith have spoken of these Halflings. The Hobbits are Halflings."

"Halflings!" Éothain said, laughing disdainfully as he dismounted and joined Éomer's side. "Long have these Halflings been sung in old songs and children's tales."

"As for your friends," Éomer said quickly, "we had no sight of them."

At this, all three of their party exchanged a troubled look. Buffy fought the will to speak, since she had seen them just the day before the Uruk-hai had been slaughtered.

"Éothain, tell the éored to stand down and to make ready to ride to the Entwade. Leave us, now."

Éothain mounted his horse and all other riders pulled out, but not before Buffy met the cool gaze of the one named Aragorn. Turning her horse and lifting her spear, she rode off with the others.

"You speak the truth," Éomer said quietly as the men before him seemed to relax slightly. "Yet you have not told all."

Aragorn told of his tale then, setting out from Imladris and intending to go to Minas Tirith with Boromir, the first-borne of the Steward of Gondor, to help aid in their war with Sauron. He concluded his tale with talk of Gandalf the Grey.

"Gandalf Greyhame is known to us," Éomer said. "But his name no longer holds favor to our King. Gandalf escaped from Isengard and came to Théoden for help, but was ignored and turned away. He has fallen ill in the King's favor, for Gandalf had borrowed Shadowfax, the lord of the _Mearas_, the finest of the King's steeds." A shadow crossed his eyes. "And Shadowfax has returned and will not let another man lay a hand upon him."

Aragorn continued his tale of the fall of both Gandalf by the Balrog of Morgoth and Boromir. The news of Boromir's death was very tragic for the young Marshal to hear.

After a moment, Éomer continued. "We both have need of haste," he said swiftly. "You may go and make haste; every hour lost hastens your loss. I will lend your horses, but ask that they be returned to Meduseld in the show of good faith between our men."

"We will meet again, Éomer. We will fight in battle and we will draw our swords together," Aragorn said to him in an undertone.

Turning, Éomer let out a whistle and two steeds sprang forward. "Hasufel! Arod!" He turned to the men. "May your fortunes be greater than their previous riders."

Éothain was leading the riders up again as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli mounted their horses and turned about. Éothain rode forward and sought counsel with Éomer, who stood upon his heels to listen.

"Word has come from the Rohirrim that your friends had been spotted not three days ago by one of our own."

"Who is this seer and why does he bring us this news upon our haste?" Aragorn asked.

"That is not of your concern," Éomer replied. Yet, he turned and to his own aggravation, a horse singled itself out from the party and joined with Éothain's.

"I saw your friends three days ago," Buffy said in a low voice, hoping to disguise her femininity, but she should have known better than to fool an Elf. He stared at her, but her eyes were on Aragorn. "They were being whipped by the Uruk-hai."

"This is grave news indeed," the Dwarf said, staring at this figure. "What is your name, horse-man?"

Éomer glared at this man and stepped before his horse. "As I have said, this matter is not of your concern." He turned to Éothain and the second rider. "Go back to the column. We will make haste across the Riddermark and turn south to Edoras, for we have much to tell Théoden King." As the two riders set out, Éomer mounted his own horse and turned to the others. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands."

That said, he rode off towards the column of men. As Aragorn turned Hasufel towards Isengard, he saw the smoke curling from a great distance. With a nod, both horses trotted away.

As they set out, Éomer drew his horse alongside the woman's. She didn't look at him, but he gazed at her. "You should not have done that," he said in a dark voice.

"Why not?" she asked, turning her head to glance at him. "You just sat there like some doomsday device and told them all the bad. I mean, I understand why. I get that now."

"Your tongue is strange to me," Éomer said, frowning.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she muttered as she urged her horse forward towards the column now cantering across the plain. The last thing she needed was for the overgrown man to keep staring at her as though she were some sorceress. The time would come later for that.

- - - - -

Author's Endnote: _This chapter is a "gift" to a good friend of ours (who actually is a co-leader of our guild), for her amazing effort during the whole American campaign thing. She put her life on hold this past week to basically be a huge voice for a candidate and spent nineteen hours counting ballots in a small, quite rural county in __Minnesota__. They finally stopped at just shy of __5 am__. So, sweetie, once you wake up, this chapter is for you. It doesn't have any romantic mush, but it will come when the journey ends. _

In the next chapter… Buffy meets a Snake and faces the hopelessness she once thought was for dopes. Or so she thought.


	4. The King of the Golden Hall I

**Miscellaneous**

Answers: Chloe, thank you, really. There used to be other things I had posted elsewhere (before I let my domain expire), so I'm working on rebuilding my online archive. I'm usually not the writer, but the editor, so this is a whole new journey for me! Anyanka, it's quite all right, my blondness has gotten me into trouble (or in trouble as I can be since underneath I am still the same red).

Pairings: There are book pairings. As much as I would love to write a Buffy/Aragorn, I wouldn't know where to begin. A Buffy/Legolas I am working on. And more Elves will be present soon enough (think of the scene where Halbarad shows up with Elladan and Elrohir from the book).

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the book.

Pickers: (KCL) Now I'm annoyed. My writing been compared to that of a character from Dawson's Creek? I have NEVER even seen THAT show... geez! I don't know if I should feel insulted or just laugh. I'm sure Aly would do the same, because her Buffy is better than mine. I checked out F/X, which is the only channel still showing the show, and it's still in the later seasons. I should probably start watching older episodes, but since Buffy isn't my genre (which happens to be Stargate SG-1), I'll just accept the fact I'll always be a lousy Buffy writer.

Thank You's: I appreciate those that say this is an original storyline... especially since I personally haven't read all that many stories... I am quite curious though: what are the other storylines? I should probably go out and look for some. I just finished reading 'The Gift of Death', recommended to us by our guild's co-mommy.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Buffy arrives at Edoras and comes face to face with evil... again.

Chapter Warning: This chapter actually uses bits from the film. Why? They seemed to fit in here, even if they weren't in the book.

- - - - -

**Chapter 4**

**The King of the Golden Hall**

**Part I**

By Alyson Kay

- - - - -

Two days later, still at full-canter, Buffy was reeling. As they broke camp that night, she collapsed near the fire, rubbing her sore back and backside. She may be the Slayer, but a horse-woman, she was not. She was aching from riding at nearly full gallop for two days bent over the back of a horse large enough to buck her off and then trample her to death. If that wasn't bad, she had a spear to carry, and a shield over her back. The helmet she had removed once the company of Aragorn had parted. It had been making her head all itchy.

During this time, Hálas had been speaking to her about what had happened to the King of this Mark. Théoden had sought the counsel of Gríma Wormtongue, a puppet of Saruman.

"Long has he poisoned the mind of the King," Hálas said heavily as Buffy redid the dressings on his leg. "Long as hope been lost for our people." But there was pride in his eyes and not even the treachery of a Wizard could take that away.

Apparently, he considered her to be one of them. She realized that she looked more like these Rohirrim than she did the man of Gondor, unless she counted by height. Then, she might be as tall as the Dwarf, but nowhere near as hideous as what she had seen. Smoothing the man's dressing, she helped him sit and brought him stew.

"You have gentle hands," Éothain spoke to her as she ladled stew into a clay bowl. "Men of this company would gladly give their legs to have you be of service."

Buffy nearly dropped the bowl into the pot. "You have got to be kidding me," she scoffed, turning to stare at Éothain. "See these hands? They're the hands of a fighter, not those of some idle play-nurse."

She moved as quickly as she could from him and joined Hálas, who started telling her about the éored. She watched him sleepily as he spoke and was soon drifting off to sleep. He stopped his story, smiling at the young woman curled at his feet.

Hálas watched her sleep before lifting his gaze to Éomer who stood over them, watchful as always. "What will become of her once we reach Edoras?"

"The King will not be pleased with me for my own decision as it were," Éomer said with a grimace. "It is likely she will have to answer to Gríma, and he will not be as pleased when he finds a stranger has joined our company." He sighed and stared down at the woman underneath her Elven cloak. "She knows more than she is willing to speak. She will have to answer to the King."

"They would execute her rather than have her join the defense of this land," Hálas said angrily.

"She must be made to become one of us," Éomer replied resolutely. "She looks to be of Rohan, yet her coverings are that of the Elf-kind."

"Do you suppose she was with those passing men?" Éothain asked, joining the two.

"It has crossed my mind," Éomer admitted. "They did not speak of her, and a simple man would have spoken of a woman with the strength she has." His gaze softened slightly as he lowered his proud eyes to the bundle at their feet. "What has been done is done. We can no more abandon her to the Riddermark than take her into our camp. Éowyn will care for her once she is inside the Hall. That is, if we are not beheaded on sight for leaving Edoras to its scant defenses."

The men of the company gathered then to sing a song for those that had fallen. Once the song was complete, they all turned to sleep, since tomorrow they would arrive at Edoras, the capital of Rohan.

They rode out early again. Buffy, feeling surprisingly well-rested, joined the end of the column with the other injured men. They set out as one and were soon within distance of a city atop a hill.

"Edoras," Éothain told her as she rode up beside him to better look at the hill. "Our home." He took in the look on her face. "You have not seen it before."

"No," she said, continuing on. "I haven't."

The entire éored rode down from the hills and passed beneath the heavy gate of Edoras. She pulled towards the front of the line and kept her eyes on the small homes and the people staring at them with large eyes as they passed. Not one of their faces gave smiles of welcome or tears of joy that the men of this land had returned safely. No, they cast their eyes downwards and continued about their task. It was as though the cloud of doom had settled itself over these houses. The streets weren't filled with laughing, giggling children but with children staring with haunted eyes, eyes that had seen battle and war.

As someone who had frequently carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, Buffy could understand their lost expressions. They had little hope in which to lead them from darkness. Even if she wasn't the one to help them, the least she could do was try to crack a smile on one of those sad faces.

They reached the hall of Meduseld in quick time, but the horses continued onto the stables, where many hands waited to greet them. From this distance, she could see great flags bellowing in the cold wind sweeping down from the mountains. She shivered even under the chainmail cloak she wore and as soon as a stable hand took her reins, she descended her mount and began following the men towards the great hall before them.

Éomer stopped her by taking her arm. "You have no place in the Hall of the King," he said quietly, trying to pull her out of the formation.

She pulled her arm away from his and glared up at him as he passed his helmet along. "I said I came here to see your King."

"He will not see you," Éomer said, taking a brisker pace after his men. "And when he does, you will be questioned and then poisoned against my men."

"I wouldn't do that!" she said indignantly. "I may not know what's going on, but I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself. You don't know me, so don't assume anything!"

"You come where no stranger has been welcome," Éomer said, taking her arm again. "I do not wish to see you cast out on your lonesome."

"I can take care of myself," she repeated, towing her arm again. But he held his grip. "Stop making excuses, Éomer. I'm not very patient. I've dealt with the bad before. Take your hand off of me before I do something we'll both regret."

He released her arm and gazed into her eyes. She spoke no lies, yet she was hidden from him, although standing regally before him. One thing was for certain: she was hell-bent on getting inside the Hall. Before he could speak, he saw a figure with fair hair approaching them, looking concerned.

"Éomer! When you disappeared, I feared the worst!" she cried, touching his shoulder before turning her attention to the small woman in front of her brother. "And what have you brought with you?"

"I'm Merilin," Buffy said finally, sticking out her free hand. The woman looked taken aback and just stared at Buffy's hand.

"You are not from Rohan," she said quietly, sounding rather surprised.

"No, I'm not," Buffy said, feeling slightly happier now that someone had finally spoken this out loud. "But I came to talk to your King."

"Are you friend or foe to Saruman?" the taller woman asked. Éomer tried to interject, but his sister was bent on learning the truth.

"I'm not his friend," Buffy said, wishing that the Marshal would stop staring at her. "I don't have many of those here." This was the truth, as she saw it at least.

The girl turned a puzzled face to her brother, who gazed down at her, his own eyes lightening. "The snake has become aware of your presence, my brother. He is asking that you come before him. He is angered that you left on such short time and left Edoras to waste in the face of disaster."

Éomer glanced at both women, clasped his sister's arm, and hurried off. Buffy made to follow him, but the woman took her by the arm and held her back. "You wish not to get involved with the war of wills."

"Like anything could get through to him," Buffy said sternly, gazing at the taller woman. "Who are you?"

"Forgive me, Merilin. There are not many who do not know. I am Éowyn, sister of Éomer, daughter of Éomund," the woman said, bowing her head again. "As for Éomer, he needs no will but his own."

"He's up against a lot," Buffy said, her eyes full of sympathy as she stared out after the figure, who was nothing more than a shadow now. "He's a very proud man."

"He was trying to protect you from certain death," Éowyn replied gently. "All strangers in this land never set foot outside Edoras, and one thing is certain; you are not from Rohan. Were you to go before my Uncle, you would not survive the visitation."

"Wait a sec… Your… Uncle?"

"Théoden King was my mother's brother," Éowyn explained.

"You… you're royal?" Buffy asked. Had she not just insulted one of the bloody princes of this country?

"We would be considered as such, yes," Éowyn replied, still gazing at the blonde. "You say your name is Merilin. That is an Elf-name."

"I've seen a few of them," Buffy admitted. "My other name is Anne. Merilin is what the Elves named me."

"Why you have chosen to ride with the Rohirrim, no man can ever tell," said Éowyn quietly. "But you have risked your life to come here under the pretense of paying tribute to our King. Is that not why you have come?"

Buffy really wanted to say something about Gandalf then. As much as she longed to tell this woman that he was still alive, she chose a different path. "I'm in the service of Mithrandir," she said finally, as though speaking of her Colonel in some white-cloaked army.

Éowyn looked at her in surprise. "We have heard of Gandalf Greyhame. He is not welcome in this country nor is he welcome on this land. He made an enemy of the King upon his last return, and any under his service are to be considered an enemy."

_Good one, Buffy_, she thought to herself with a sigh. She wanted to build trust with this woman, not completely turn her into an enemy.

Yet Éowyn gazed upon her with pity. "Come to the Golden Hall," she said at last. "You will meet our King. Long has it been since he had any will of his own, and only Éomer has brought our people pride." She stepped forward and gently pried off the heavy cloak of chainmail and set it aside. "You may wish to disarm yourself."

Buffy undid her belt and set it aside. Feeling naked without her sword digging into her hip, she smoothed her Elvish cloak and followed Éowyn up the stairs and to the front gates, where many stood on guard.

At once, they opened the doors for the Lady of Rohan, and both women swept inside. The Golden Hall was dark for its time, with small candles burning in sconces on the walls. The great banner of Rohan hung behind the throne, where a withered, weathered man sat, hunched over, looking far older than his time.

Buffy nearly gasped as her senses came rushing back to meet her. She had no idea how, but it felt as though this man was under some sort of spell. It was like the First was sitting on this chair before her, looking like the worn old man with the crown on his head. Instead, she straightened up, feeling even shorter as men followed their path through the hall and stood before the throne.

King Théoden glanced up and met the hazel-gaze of the traveler. He started to mutter senselessly, but it was the cold words behind them that sounded along with the slamming of the door they'd just entered. "Late is the hour by which you return," said a slimy, evil-sounding voice.

Buffy noticed that Éowyn had tensed beside her.

"She has come to seek your counsel," Éowyn said quickly.

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise as she gazed intently at the taller woman. What the hell was going on? What was Éowyn doing?

"My counsel," said the figure, moving into sight. Buffy noticed him, then. He was smaller than the riders of Rohan. He wore a long, black cloak and was as hunched as the King, his eyes hidden behind strands of dark hair. His skin was a shade of greenish-grey and his oily skin glowed in the firelight. "You have brought a woman before me for counsel?"

"She wishes to speak with the King," Éowyn said clearly.

"I have a matter I wish to speak with the King," the figure said snappishly. "You and your guest will leave this Hall at once."

"You cannot send me away," Éowyn said proudly, lifting her chin against this figure that would defile her.

"Your brother has abandoned you, my Lady," the man continued, smiling cruelly. Buffy noticed that his teeth were as grey as his skin. "You tire your King with your complaints and your derision. His rule has long held this land."

He reached out a grey hand to touch her, but to Éowyn's surprise, the woman next to her had stepped in front of her, glaring up at the figure.

"You must be Gríma Worm-blood. They've told me about you," she said quickly as Éowyn pulled away, recoiling in disgust at what had almost happened.

"I have no time for you," he said, peering into her eyes, which remained as cold as he'd seen them. "Be gone from this land! There is no place here for a woman of your stature."

"I don't like you," Buffy said, taking a step closer towards him. She was well aware that there were men wielding swords and they were moving nearer, but she didn't dare pull her gaze away now. "You're a smart guy, you figure it out. I'm not going away until I do what I came here to do." Her eyes narrowed as she took in his pallor and felt the eerie waves of evil vibe practically bouncing off of him. "I've killed evil darker than you."

"What witchcraft do you carry?" he asked coldly.

Buffy didn't move her gaze, but she could feel the footsteps stop suddenly behind her. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a spy? I don't belong to you, so quit looking at me like you have no idea what I'm talking about and grow yourself a brain. I don't have time for this!"

"You speak against the King of Rohan?" the man asked as the figures surrounded them. Éowyn was feeling very nervous now and backed away completely until she stood beside her Uncle, her face a mask of fear.

"She stands not alone," said a deep voice.

"Éomer," Gríma said, sounding delighted as he pulled away from the small woman. "Your King has a matter that he wishes to discuss with you, since you have so kindly told him of this news…"

Buffy's eyes implored him to get out of the room, as those who advanced on her were now turning to advance on him.

"You have returned as you had not been given the will to leave," the man said, taking the seat beside the King and turning to the withered figure. "My liege, this sister-son has been warmongering. They say that he has given strangers passage to this land and that he has bestowed upon them horses, as well. What would be your punishment for such… treason?"

Éowyn glanced at her brother, but he stood before his King, his eyes filled with mistrust and anger. "I do not answer to you," he said coldly. "I have taken my éored, my own birthright."

Théoden King made another gesture and rasped out, "You left this city with no defense."

"That he did, my lord," Gríma said, looking positively delighted now. "And he gave your property to strangers." His eyes moved to Buffy, who didn't relent her infuriated gaze. "But he brought to me a gift."

"She is no gift of yours," Éomer said coldly. "If you touch her, I will kill you by my own hand."

"Such is the will of a warmonger," the man said with his cruel smile. "Such tactless grace and cold malevolence he carries, for he does not know the troubles of an already troubled mind."

"Too long have you poisoned his mind," Éomer said darkly, as the soldiers behind him started forward at Gríma's motion. "Too long have you darkened his shadow."

Buffy drew in a sharp breath. Éomer had done something quite kind and had stuck up for her, even though he didn't know who she really was. She was alone in this world, in this Hall, with a man who was coldly rebuking the good will of the world of men. He was standing before the last hope of these people and was tearing him apart, piece by piece.

The man paused and turned back to the King, who had straightened. Buffy was revolted to see how truly ancient he appeared, for not even Gandalf had appeared this old. "Imprison… imprison him…"

"A wise decision, my liege," Gríma said coldly as he turned to look at Éomer. Buffy felt her heart go out to him, as his eyes had the trapped, betrayed look as he glanced at his Uncle who sat motionless upon his throne. She wanted to cry out and intervene, but her sense of caution overrode her sense of duty. The soldiers sprang forward and held swords to his neck and chest.

"Take him to the dungeons," the figure said with his callous smile. "Should he return, it would be under the penalty of death."

"No!" Buffy cried out, but her shout wasn't heard over the sound of Éomer being punched and dragged backwards out of the Golden Hall. Éowyn turned to Gríma, her eyes flashing, before following behind them.

Buffy made to follow when two soldiers grasped her arms and pushed her forward. She struggled against them, only stopping when a cold hand took her chin roughly.

"And the visitor," Gríma said, smiling as he touched her face, his hand moving down to her brooch. "Such innocence in her eyes… such anger. You will make a fine choice here, whatever your reason for coming to this land."

"Get your hands off of me," Buffy said in a voice underlined with anger. A hand struck her cheek and she touched it, but did not cry out. Gríma's hand reached up and clutched her throat. Her hands struck out and shoved him brutally away. Instantly the guards surrounded her, but her gaze was reserved for the leech that stood before her, grinning coldly.

"You are small, little one, and feisty. You will not dispute against me again if you wish to live," he said, before throwing her back into the arms of his guards. "Bring her to Éowyn. Do not argue with me, child. If you do, I shall have you imprisoned as I had your horse-master."

Buffy gave him one last look of great loathing as she was dragged sputtering out of the Golden Hall and dumped mercilessly down the steps. She rolled until she got to the bottom, landing hard on her stomach. "I hate that man," she muttered. She felt extremely insulted; he had just called her 'little', which is something she truly wasn't, especially when it came to fighting.

She heard footsteps and a hand gently pulled her up. "Are you injured, my lady?"

"No, I'm all right," she said, allowing herself to be helped to her feet as she gazed at the door of Meduseld, which had just been slammed shut. She didn't realize it then, but she was still trembling with rage.

- - - -

It was about this time that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli disappeared into Fangorn Forest and came across a man they didn't expect to see, for he was old and many would consider him to be Saruman. Once his identity had been revealed as Gandalf, the Wizard who had fallen was reborn again.

It brought them comfort to know that the Halflings were safe and in the deepest heart of the wood.

Gandalf's words brought little comfort to them as they continued to the edge of the forest. "A thing is about to happen which has not happened since the days of the Elders; the Ents are going to wake up and realize that they are strong." He paused. "Merry and Pippin are safe, far safer than where we ride to."

"I go to Edoras," Aragorn said.

"Yes, Edoras is where we must go," Gandalf replied, as they walked the sunlit path. "War will come to Théoden and all will go ill for him. We must make haste or else all will fall and Rohan will crumble. These are simple folk who wish for freedom and this is the task that is set before them. They will not understand what has already been given them."

He took one step into the sunlight. "I have spoken words of hope, but hope alone is not victory. War is upon us and all of our friends."

"You are our captain," Aragorn said, as both Legolas and Gimli silently agreed. "The Dark Lord may have nine, but we have One, and mightier than they. We have the White Rider. He has passed through fire and darkness and all fear him. We will go where he leads and he will lead us to whatever end."

"To whatever end," Gandalf said as he paused, swinging his staff from his right hand to his left. "Hope is still forsaken in these lands, and in the hope of the one sent before me, she has been imprisoned in the darkness, yet her faith strengthens." Glancing up, he whistled into the air. "We must make haste. Rohan's time has almost passed and all will soon fade to memory."

- - - -

Buffy spent the next three days locked inside her small room in the Golden Hall, ignoring all the mutterings about outlanders. She had shed her Elf-cloak and her gown, changing into a more appropriate style supplied by Éowyn. She was pleased to see that even though it was a deep reddish-brown, it was still flattering in its own way. It was sad to cast away her trousers and her Elven-cloak, but since people were suspicious enough of her, she didn't need to draw any more suspicion to herself. Without these tell-tale signs that she didn't belong there, she blended it quite perfectly and soon moved about the Golden Hall.

Éowyn left frequently during the daytime, leaving Buffy to pace the small rooms, reading from books written in languages she didn't understand and cursing the Powers for leaving her here without the proper knowledge. She had no idea that every single race in this stupid world had their very own language!

She was half-tempted to find a way down into the prison, which Éothain had told her was under Meduseld and ruled with an iron fist by puppets of Gríma, and Buffy had no intentions of another face-down with that horrible demon of a man. If he hadn't been human and hadn't been surrounded by even more tall humans that looked as though they belonged on a professional wrestling circuit, she would have taken them all out. This left her with a King who thought with the mind of a Dark Wizard, and that was even more treacherous to think about. In the end, she was very glad she hadn't done what she had been about to do.

She instead spent her free time in the gardens or the stables, trying to tempt her dark grey mare with sugar lumps and carrot sticks. It took the mare two days before Buffy was able to touch her again. Apparently her old master was some really great rider, and Buffy, being the apprentice she was, was almost unbearable. It helped pass the time, something that she most grateful for.

On the evening of the third day, she went out with Éowyn. They went down to the entrance of a cavern, whose stone door had been set ajar.

"This is the grave of Théodred, the King's son, my cousin," the young woman said as both stepped inside. "He was killed not a fortnight ago by Orcs bearing the white-hand of Saruman. This was the reason why Éomer left to track those heading to the west." Her face was lined with grief and Buffy was startled to see so much pain. "He was the heir to the throne, the only heir. And my King has imprisoned the other."

She turned to Buffy. "I have longed to see the day when this land would be renewed and the people proud and strong. I have lasted through war and battle, and watched the youth die away. They leave behind the old and the battered; those who carry fear in their hearts and have no will left to go to battle." She closed her eyes and looked down, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "King Théoden did not even come to his son or seek his counsel. That evil snake turned upon them both, Éomer and my cousin. He attempted to force them to fight, but they were united against Saruman's will. This is why news of Théodred's death was kept from the King. This is the true reason why my brother is down in the dungeons."

Both women glanced at the stone tomb, where inside laid the body of a man who could have been King. Buffy couldn't find any words to say. She heard her own words in her mind, talking about how people were stupid to die. It didn't seem fitting here, and she could find nothing in her own experiences save one; when she had killed Angel. Her grief had led her to run away from everything and to seek the company of no one. But Éowyn lived in this fear, day by day. She was truly alone.

Not anymore, Buffy swore to herself. She had made a promise to help these people see a new day, and even if it took every last ounce of her stunted patience and compassion, she was going to see it through.

"Your cousin died a hero," Buffy told the older woman in a gentle voice. "That's the most… brave kind of death there is."

These words brought Éowyn little comfort, but she heard the darkness in the other woman's voice and knew she had experienced a taste of this pain. "Have you been through war?"

Buffy's eyes lowered and she nodded. "A few," she said, as the women left the tomb. As they exited, Éowyn made to close the door. Buffy stepped in and helped her push it back into place. "I have lost my people, too."

"Have you a family?" Éowyn inquired as the two continued towards the city around them.

"I did," Buffy said, crossing her arms. "My mother died a few years ago, and my father left my family before that."

"We know the same bitterness with each passing," Éowyn said quietly. "I lost my mother from grief when my father was cut down by Orcs. I was very young at this time and do not remember."

"Sometimes it's better when you don't," Buffy replied. She realized then there were dark clouds approaching from the north. "When people die really painful deaths, it's better when you remember them happy and not… dying. I have seen too many die." There was a haunted look in her eyes as she gazed away for a moment, and the look passed as the wind ceased.

"Why have you come to Edoras?" Éowyn asked of her. Buffy gave her a pained smile and sighed.

"I can't fool you, can I?" she asked with a sharp laugh as both women sat upon the lower stairs, watching as the people went about their daily chores, all donned in black. "I made a promise to someone I would come and serve your King when he needed me. I just happened to meet your brother and his hundred merry men on the way."

"Is your land a warrior's land?" Éowyn asked curiously as they both stared out over Edoras.

Buffy smiled. "There are few of us left," she replied truthfully. "Many of us died in our last war. I was dead… but then I came back because I had one last thing to do and this…" She gestured to Meduseld and its great banners which rippled in the wind. "As odd as it sounds, I like this place better."

"I envy your courage," Éowyn said after a moment's silence. "Not many are like you and wish to fight for this land. All are loyal, but hope wanes in the face of Saruman's control. With Éomer imprisoned, the path is clear to the King, and hope is lost." She didn't comment on Buffy's mention that she'd been dead.

"No," Buffy said, leaning over and taking the other woman's hand. "Don't ever think that. I've been through a lot of things I'm sure no one here will get. But you're not alone anymore, because I'll be damned if I let that worm-man lock me up. I don't know what's coming next, but I do know it's probably going to be bad. If we keep hoping and hoping, nothing's going to happen, because we'll both die from old age or an attack, whichever happens first. There's always hope, but only if we act on it."

Éowyn gave her a tragic smile and glanced proudly at the black banner rippling in the wind. "You may be the only one who believes in that."

"Believing in myself is the one thing that has gotten me through my life," Buffy said, glancing at Éowyn. "I've only got the cliffs notes version of what's been going on here, and from what I can tell, all paths lead to the men. I'm a hard person to get along with, or I was… I had a lot of responsibility back then. Kind of like what you have now, only this is… old."

"I am trapped in this house," Éowyn said clearly, looking startled at the way this other woman was speaking to her. "It is naught but a cage and I will die within it. I will succumb to old age and misuse and the darkness will take me, as it has taken my King. This responsibility you tell me I have, I did not seek this. I do not know it exists."

"You're alone," Buffy said quietly. "I don't mean that you're stuck in a hall with a bunch of really not-so-nice men who just leer at you. I'm saying that you're one of the only people in this house that hasn't had their brain overtaken by an evil Wizard. You're of the power here, Éowyn. It's time to make your choice. You can either act when change comes or you can die here in your… cage."

Poor Éowyn looked so miserable as she stared out over the fields, her fair hair blowing in the wind as she rose to her feet. "Such has been dark for too long," she said over the rush of the breeze. "If it comes to change, I will accept this change."

"Don't be afraid of it," Buffy said as she joined her. "Sometimes change is good. Change is power. There's a reason I'm here, and while I don't exactly know why, I'm sure I'll find out."

She suddenly cut off her own words as a strange sense came over her, almost as though she had grown a sixth one.

"What is it?" Éowyn asked, seeing the look on the other woman's face. "What do you see?"

"I sense something," Buffy said vaguely, glancing down as she tried to make sense of the emotion she had just felt. It was almost as though someone had called out to her.

Éowyn rose slowly, glancing down at the woman still at her feet. "What gift is yours if not sorcery?" she demanded in her quiet tone.

Buffy stood up quickly to face the woman, but was still looking up to her, since Éowyn was as tall as many of the women of this land, and even as tall as those of Elf-kind. "I feel power," she said uncertainly. "It's coming from out there." Turning, she ran down the slope and towards one of the lower gates. Reaching it, she stared out into the early evening, but could see nothing. "My senses aren't witchy, not really, anyway. They come with the whole Slayer package."

"I fear the time may come when even your gift will bring us little comfort," Éowyn said, casting a dark look at the land beyond the walls of Edoras. She didn't ask about the Slayer thing.

"This isn't a bad thing," Buffy said slowly, her eyes widening. Of course, she thought. Of course. Gandalf was coming. For some reason, they had a connection, a sense of knowing where the other was. He had a great power over her, yet she had power of her own, and for one moment their minds had been linked.

She silently followed Éowyn up to the Hall, feeling as though she had let Gandalf down. No one was ready to jump into any fight just yet, and the leader of their army was stuck in a dungeon. As she lay upon her bed, she began to think about Éomer and what he must be feeling. She recalled just a few weeks before when she had been cast from her home by her friends. It hadn't been a cold betrayal, but it had stung, nonetheless. She had felt trapped, defeated. It was only Spike's strength that had brought her through, breaking through the cold shell of misery.

She smiled at the memory of Spike and thought of his heroic death, as hers had been. She wondered where he was now, if he was trapped in a netherworld or if he had gone back through time. How many thousands of years had she fallen?

She thought of Dawn and smiled, tears filling her eyes. The young woman had so much strength and it was a beautiful gift for the world. She was going to do a great many things, and all around her would be proud. Buffy had never been more proud, even though her sister was not standing beside her.

As she drifted off to sleep, thoughts of her friends and her home came back to her. She wouldn't allow herself to weep just yet. There was enough grief in this country for hundreds of replicas of herself. She did not need to add to the pain already felt. She had a dark past; who didn't?

The truth was she had accepted this challenge because _she hadn't been ready to die_. When she was ready, she would know. Wasn't that what Whistler had said? She wasn't ready yet, but if this world was as dark and hopeless as it seemed… she would be ready soon enough.

There was still so much she wanted to do. Even as the only Slayer in this world, she had no place in it. She knew this. There weren't the normal vampires and demons and forces of darkness. There were Elves and Men and Dwarves, along with races she didn't know and didn't have a clue on how to pronounce them. But the Slayer was more than just a fighter; she believed in something. These people had no faith in their world, as their captains had fallen. She may not be the best person to lead a bunch of men she didn't know into battle, but if they needed a miracle, she was their star. She had died three times and still had breath within her. She was going to be there when they needed her, unto the ending of the world, even if it happened to be the same moment she realized she wanted to live. These people needed hope, and Buffy, although she'd been fighting for a long time, wasn't oblivious to things such as fate and hope. She'd stopped believing in normalcy a long time ago, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try something new. This was definitely not normal, as she wasn't.

She was awoken by the same presence in her mind. It wasn't yet sunrise, and she felt sleepy as she sat up and rose, dressing quickly. As she passed by the windows, she saw three horses riding up the path, speaking with their guide. With a grim smile, she dressed and wrapped herself in a dark cloak and went into the corridors. She could sense it, almost as though he were standing next to her telling her how to speak like an Elf in his semi-patient voice.

Gandalf had come at last.

- - -

In the next chapter… Gandalf does his magic and Buffy shows that young people aren't as expendable as Théoden says they are.

I decided to post this chapter today because it's my brother's birthday. Sappy am I, I know. It is more fun this way. He doesn't read fanfiction, but if he did, he'd be rolling his eyes and calling me his sappy big sister all over again. I love the boy.

_To give you an idea of how this fiction will progress, I will offer this: Buffy was literally dropped on the eve of battle, and after three minor skirmishes, she faces the battle of Helm's Deep her third week in a new world. This fiction progresses rather quickly (since the timeline is quite compressed), and because this story hasn't been divided out quite yet, I cannot say how much of it is in canon and much of it is out._


	5. The King of the Golden Hall II

**Miscellaneous**

Clarifications: Buffy actually did not take on all of the Orcs alone, unless you count her second skirmish in "The Dark Forest". The motivation behind that scene was to prove she can fight what she does not understand without knowing why she was fighting them for. There was a quote from the show that pretty much summed it up: give me something to kill. Well, she has enough to kill now.

Pairings: There are basic book pairings. Buffy will find herself with another as well, but that is yet to be revealed.

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the book.

Thank You's: Thank you for your recommendations! They are completely awesome stories I do plan on reading (or in any case, to finish reading what I have started). This will be perfect Winter Break reading. As for this fiction, I plan on completing the 'new and interesting', but I hopefully will finish this prior to Christmas. I am not daring to hope, since anything can and probably will happen. I have yet to complete my final project prior to my graduation next month, so hopefully I can finish posting all of these chapters before I leave for home in early January. I have missed my home state so much since returning to WI, so going home will be the epitome of graduating.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Gandalf's arrival frees Théoden and brings hope to those of Edoras; Buffy proves that not all young people die without honor.

Chapter Warning: This chapter relies pretty heavily upon the book. I gave one of Gandalf's quotes from _The Houses of Healing _to Gríma, as was seen in the film.

- - - - -

**Chapter 5**

**The King of the Golden Hall**

**Part II**

_Written by Alyson Kay_

- - - - -

Buffy had no sooner stepped out from the corridor leading outside when a cool voice beckoned to her. "My lady, the King wishes your company."

Buffy had no choice but to turn around and let the guard take her through the long passageways until she at last reached the Hall. Éowyn stood behind her Uncle, her face a frozen mask of grief and despair. It was obvious she had heard some depressing news, or else the moron who had been brainwashing everyone had tried to put yet another failed move on her. Nevertheless, Éowyn looked miserable.

"The time has come to pass judgment upon this child," Gríma's slimy voice spoke as he came up from behind her and touched her shoulder. "Too fair is she to give to the wolves of Isengard…" He slowly circled around her to look down into her face, which Buffy kept perfectly neutral. "Strength, she carries, and wisdom… I can see this."

His hand was just about to brush her face when her own caught his in an iron-tight grip. Her eyes hardened in anger. "Get the hell away from me," she said coldly.

"So fair, yet so cold," he continued, wrenching his hand from her painful grasp and shaking it as he backed away. "She is quite alone."

"She is not alone," Éowyn said quickly. "She is friend to this land and she holds it in high regard, much higher than that of your own regard." Stepping out from behind the throne, she moved until she was standing in front of the shorter woman.

"Two women stand alone while their captains have abandoned them," Gríma said, and Buffy watched as Éowyn's face darkened in pain and she turned away. "Who knows what you've spoken to the darkness. In bitter watches of the night, when all your life seems to shrink, the walls of your bower closing in about you. A hutch to trammel some wild thing in, you have become." His own eyes hardened to obsidian crystal as he glanced at the shorter woman. "You come with the traitor and yet you are an outsider. You have found welcome in these Halls, but in the end, you will abandon this house to ruin."

Buffy glared at him, while Éowyn's face tightened with anger. "Your words are poison," she spat, before turning away abruptly and hurrying from the Golden Hall.

"You don't know me, and I sure don't want to know you," Buffy said, putting her hands on her hips. "Let me make something clear now: leave her alone. She doesn't deserve this insanity. You're beneath her." She could feel the guards closing in around her, but this time she wasn't afraid to fight them all off. It was the distracting sound of movement behind her that hindered this decision.

Just then, the doors burst open and the Doorward appeared.

- - - -

Outside the Golden Hall, Gandalf had just ridden before Háma, the Doorward. "Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter. This is the order of Gríma Wormtongue."

Gandalf turned and nodded at his companions, who had bid their own steeds' farewell at the gates, after returning them to the men with the good faith in which these horses had been lent to them in the first place.

Legolas was the first to hand over his well-crafted bow, his quiver of arrows, and his daggers. "Keep these well, for they were given to me by the Lady of the Golden Wood," he spoke.

The man who faced them was amazed and quickly tucked the weapons against the wall, as though he were afraid to touch them. "No man shall touch them," Háma said in his sternest tone.

Aragorn was more unwilling to give up his own blade and held it in his hand until the Doorward prompted, "This is by order of Théoden King that you shall not approach so heavily armed, my lord."

"Come, come!" Gandalf said, eyeing Aragorn sharply. "We are all friends here, as we should be. The laughter of Mordor will be our only reward if we quarrel. My errand is passing. I shall at least give you my sword. Now, my good Háma, allow me passage."

At last, Aragorn handed over his sword, while Gimli stared longingly at his axe before handing it to Háma, who laid it beside the weapons of Legolas.

"Now, then, if all is as you wish, let us go and speak with your master," Aragorn said.

Háma's eyes drifted to the staff that Gandalf carried. "Your staff, too, must you surrender. It cannot be allowed to pass through these doors."

Gandalf frowned at the stick of ash, yet made no effort to pass it forward. "Prudence is one thing, discourtesy is another. I am old. You would not part an old man from his walking stick?"

"The staff in the hand of a Wizard is more than a prop for old age," Háma said, his eyes full of suspicion, yet he signaled for the others to open the doors into the Hall. "Yet I believe your company is true. What the wizard has said is right: we are all friends here. You may go in."

And inwards they walked, as the doors closed behind them. Háma led them to the far end of the house, past many woven cloths decorated with the relics of old. He led them before a dais. On top of the dais was the great, gilded throne of a weathered, withered man, hunched over by his age.

In this hall were many guards, and to his side, in a secondary chair upon the dais, was a man in a long black cloak. A figure in a green cloak stood to his side, but disappeared with the incoming company.

"Hail, Théoden-King!" Gandalf said, opening his arms in welcome.

The King rose slowly, lifting his head, ancient eyes staring out as he hobbled on his own staff of a short, blackened wood. His eyes were very cold and held no welcome. "You bring with you a herald of woe," he said, in a voice a dead man might use. "Troubles follow you like crows, and ever the oftener the worse. I will not deceive you. When I heard of the return of Shadowfax, I rejoiced at the return of my horse, yet more still at the lack of the rider. When Éomer brought the tidings of your passing, I did not mourn. No, and yet you have come to me again. And with you more evils as to be expected. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?" Slowly, ever so slowly, he sat back down in his chair. His eyes glittered with something like triumph, yet his face remained as impassive as always.

"You speak justly, lord," said Gríma, rising. His own eyes glistened with amusement as he approached the four men. "Why indeed should we welcome you, Gandalf Greyhame? _Láthspell_ I name you; ill news is an ill guest."

"You are held wise, Wormtongue, but in this way are you one fool: there are two ways a man may come with evil tidings," Gandalf said. "He may be a worker of evil; or he may be such as he leaves well alone and comes only to bring aid in the time of need."

"There is yet a third kind," Gríma said, his eyes narrowing as he passed before the wizened man, "the picker of bones, the meddler who comes to lie down upon a man's sorrows. What aid have you ever brought Stormcrow? And what aid do you bring now? It was aid from us that you sought last time you were here. Do you bring men? Do you bring horses, swords, spears? That I would call aid; that is our present need. But who are these that follow you?"

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf spoke instead, his gaze lifting to meet the ancient face staring intently at him. To Wormtongue, he added, "The wise speak only of what they know. Be silent, and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy words with a witless worm."

Buffy had half a mind to jump in and speak her support, but she could feel the tension in the air rising. Gandalf lifted his staff and passed it to his opposite hand. She took in the darkened look in Gríma's eyes as he turned to the guards surrounding this new company.

"His staff! I told you take the wizard's staff!" he moaned.

The guards surged forward then. Buffy watched as the three in Gandalf's company rushed to hold them back before ducking her head down and hastened herself into the skirmish.

She punched out one guard before turning her hostility upon another and using a sharp kick to his chest to knock him into another as they both tumbled to the floor. She saw Gríma's look of intense disgust as he tried to pull away, but the Dwarf sprang forward, knocking him to the ground. Pulling her fists down to her sides, she turned with the others to see Gandalf standing before the dais, his staff pointed to the King.

"Too long have you sat in the shadows," Gandalf said, advancing upon the King, who stared at the wizard with blank eyes.

Above them, there was a roll of thunder as the room darkened. The friendlier guards stepped forward, closing around the hostile guards still unconscious on the ground. She knew she had revealed herself to those in Gandalf's company, but this was a far more pressing matter.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf said as he begun to shine with pale light, even under his dark cloak. "I release you from the spell." He put out a small gesture, which seemed to accomplish nothing.

Théoden's gaze had changed when he looked up, his mirthless laughter ringing evilly in the dark room. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!"

Gandalf lifted his hand and shed his dark cloak, exuding a blinding white light. Théoden cried out and cowered against his seat. From the corner of the room, Buffy saw Éowyn return and, upon seeing her King in peril, rushed forward to meet him. She took a step forward, but it was the man called Aragorn who held her back. Once Éowyn had paused, Buffy came up from behind her and stood, watching the scene unfold before her.

This was very strange. Willow had a hell of a lot of power. But this Gandalf was the power. It was scary to see this sort of good power used in its rarest form.

"If I do, Théoden dies," the King said waspishly, in a voice unlike his own. Buffy felt a chill race down her spine and knew that this was the voice of the dark Wizard Saruman. How she knew, she couldn't say.

"You did not kill me," Gandalf said, gesturing ever so slightly with his staff. "And you will not kill him."

"Rohan is mine."

Buffy outright shivered at these words, and the first thought to her mind was, possessive much?

"Be gone!" Gandalf commanded, and with this, the last ounce of darkness was taken from Théoden as he cried out one last time before falling with exhaustion back into his chair.

Éowyn let out a muffled sob and rushed to her King's side. Buffy released her arm and gained a look from Aragorn, one of complete surprise. She averted her eyes from his and watched as Éowyn bent down on her knees before her King.

"Do you ask for help?" Gandalf asked softly, his face glowing with his triumph as he returned to his old position of leaning heavily against his staff. A light began to return to the room, as sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the Golden Hall in magnificent light. "Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark, for better help you will not find." He spied the woman he had parted with a few days before and shared a nod with her. "No counsels have we to give those that despair. Too long have you sat in shadows and trusted to twisted tales and crooked promptings." His face relaxed. "Breathe the free air again, my friend."

The man before them was changing before their very eyes. Gone was the long, snowy hair and beard. His lined face was growing sharper and more focused, and his eyes became more aware. Éowyn took her Uncle's hand and held it, her eyes shining with tears as his gaze turned to her. "I know your face… Éowyn."

She smiled brightly then, a tear cascading down her cheek. Théoden then turned his gaze to the man in the long white cloak standing before him. "Gandalf?"

"Now, lord," Gandalf said, gesturing widely to the windows facing east. "Look upon your land, and breathe your free air, and you will see that not all has come to darkness." He turned and bid the others to depart, promising Éowyn he would look after her King. Once they all had left, he turned to his old friend.

The King rose and leaned heavily on his staff, only to frown at it and cast it aside. As he stared through the veiled glass, his eyes grew with a longing. "Dark have been my dreams of late," he said softly. "But I feel as though I am newly awakened. I would now that you had come before, Gandalf. For I fear that already you have come too late, only to see the last fall of my house. What is to be done?"

"There is much to be done," Gandalf said swiftly. "First, send for Éomer. He has been imprisoned under the orders of Wormtongue I am certain."

"It is true," Théoden replied. "He has rebelled against my commands and threatened death to Gríma in my hall." He stared out as a veil of sunlight crossed his face. "I will do as you ask. Since Háma proved untrustworthy as a doorward, let him become an errand-runner. The guilty shall bring the guilty to judgment." Turning, he smiled at Gandalf, and the extraneous lines on his face melted away, never to be seen again.

Háma was summoned and came in the company of a woman. She was smaller than many of his land, and young enough to be his own kin. She wore an emerald cloak over her face, but she brushed it aside at his command. Her hazel eyes burned into his, and it was a gaze he remembered from the days before. After Háma had left with the company of this woman, Théoden turned to Gandalf.

"Was that not a woman that came with the errand-runner?" he asked in some surprise.

"She comes of my service," Gandalf replied. "She has come to bring counsel to these lands, and already she has won the favor of your sister-daughter." He paused as the doors opened and the others returned; Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli moved forward as the King returned to his throne, and Gandalf took up the chair abandoned by Wormtongue.

"I must speak of this now, because there is no time to tell all that you should hear," Gandalf said. "You are come into a peril greater than even that the wit of Wormtongue could weave into your dreams! The enemy is strong beyond our reckoning, yet we have hope at which he has not guessed. You live. Gondor and Rohan do not stand alone."

As he spoke, Gandalf held down his voice, so none by the King could hear. As soon as he had stopped speaking, Théoden rose in his seat to his full height, and Gandalf beside him, and together they looked from their high place towards the east.

"That way lays our hope," Gandalf said, loudly enough for all to hear. "That way lays our greatest fear. Doom hangs still on a thread. Yet hope there is still, if we can but stand it."

The others in the room turned to the east and they all paused, watching in silence. Many questions were on their mind, yet none had the voice to speak them.

Slowly, Théoden returned to his seat. "Alas," he said, "that these evil days should be mine, and should come in my old age instead of the peace which I have earned. The young perish and the old linger, withering." He clutched as his knees with his withered hands, which hadn't yet lost the touch of darkness pressed upon him.

"Not all of us are dead yet," said a clear female voice from the head of the room. All turned to see the young woman in the green cloak approaching them, her eyes solely on the King. The companions of Gandalf stared at her, and Legolas's eyes narrowed in recognition. It had been she who had given the report in the Riddermark.

Gandalf rose and extended his hand to hers. "Merilin," he said, using the name given to her by Galadriel. She gave him a brief smile.

"It's good to see you, too," she said, before turning her attention back to the man who stared at her with polite puzzlement in his eyes.

"I have seen your eyes," he said, gazing at her intently.

"I'm… well, yeah, you have," she said, bowing her head. "It won't be the last of them you'll see, either."

She stepped to the side of the dais as Gandalf sat down again. The King was still blinking in wonder, yet the weariness was lost to him. His hand was still grasping his knee.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said.

Théoden rose and put his hand to his side, but no sword hung from his belt. "Where has Gríma stowed it?" he muttered as he glanced around the dais, as though his sword would be lying anywhere.

"Take this, dear lord!" said a clear voice. "It was ever at your service." Two men had come quietly up the stair and now stood at the top, before the King. Éomer was there; he was the one who had spoken. There was no helmet on his head, nor did he wear armor, yet he carried a sword, and he knelt as he offered the hilt to his master.

"How comes this?" Théoden asked his eyes on his sister-son. Éomer and the other men entering the hall looked upon the King, tall and erect, with wonder, as they had last seen him withered over an old black walking stick.

"It is my doing, lord," Háma said, trembling as he gave his head a stunted bow. "I understood that Éomer was to be set free, and such joy was in my heart! Yet, since he remains a Marshal of the Mark, I brought him his sword as he asked."

"To lay at your feet, my lord," Éomer said quietly.

For a moment of silence, Théoden stood looking at Éomer as he knelt before him. Their gazes pierced the other's, and neither moved.

"Will you not take the sword?" Gandalf asked, just as Buffy finally said, "Would you take it already?"

Slowly, Théoden reached out and took the hilt. As he clasped the cold metal, it seemed to those observing that strength was returning to his weak arms. Suddenly, he lifted the blade and swung it shimmering into the air. He cried out, and the others rose to his call. The men looked at their lord in amazement, and then as one they drew their swords and laid them at his feet. Éowyn, who had followed her brother inside, rose to her own feet, although she had nothing to put to her Uncle's.

"Command us!" they said.

Buffy just stood there, staring at the stack of swords at the King's feet before she stepped forward and, pulling out her own Elvish sword, laid it with the others. Somehow, this seemed like the right thing to do, a call to arms of sorts. This was the sort of act that inspired confidence and after spending all of five days in this realm, she knew that confidence and courage were seriously lacking.

The King laid the sword flat in his hands before lowering it to Éomer. "Take back your sword!" he said. "Go, Háma, and seek my own sword! Gríma has it in his keeping. Bring him before me, also!"

Turning back to Gandalf, he inquired, "Now, Gandalf, you said that you bring me counsel. What is this counsel?"

"You have already taken it," Gandalf said with a patient smile. "To put your trust in Éomer, rather than a man of a crooked mind. To cast aside regret and fear. And this counsel is the last I offer you: every man that can ride should be sent west at once, as we must first destroy the threat of Saruman while we have time. If we fail, we fall. As for your people, they need to get to safety." He turned to the woman who stood before him, and she blinked, seemingly growing before their eyes. There was no surprise in her expression, for this story was well known and well-taught in her own verse.

Yet Buffy was not afraid to take it. For some reason, she knew what she had to say, and she said it. "For everyone left here in… (here she waited for someone to mutter 'Edoras' behind her), you need to get them out."

Éomer turned his gaze from his Uncle to the woman standing a few paces away. He stared at her in amazement, still not knowing who she was, or where she had come from. He had heard little when he was imprisoned.

"I do not understand your dialect," Théoden said kindly, trying not to feel put out at being talked to by a woman. She must be great to be in Gandalf's good grace, and she spoke with wisdom. Yet seeking the counsel of someone who spoke in a language he did not understand would not carry well with him.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just like the rest of them," Buffy muttered under her breath.

Gandalf gave her an impatient look before turning back to Théoden. "Those who remain should fly into the refuges of the mountains. Little provisions should they carry. They should not burden themselves with treasures, great or small. It is their lives that are at stake."

"What he said," Buffy said in her informal tone. She was well aware that the damned Marshal was staring at her again.

"The counsel seems good to me now," Théoden said, glancing at both the wizard and the young woman. "Let all my folk get ready! But you as my guests, the courtesy of this hall shall be opened to you. A guest-house shall be made ready: there you shall sleep, when you have eaten."

Buffy was all up for that. After nearly getting mauled by Gríma and then watching the King go from old to young, she wasn't really thinking with her brain anymore. Yet, her brain was there. It was strange. She felt as though a part of herself had left the building. Her brain really wasn't processing this on the higher level yet. This had been one bit of magic Willow hadn't ever done. Who needed a fountain of youth when there was Gandalf around?

"Nay, my lord," said Aragorn. He realized that this woman was staring at him now with an intense, thoughtful stare. "There is no rest yet for the weary. The men of Rohan must ride forth today. And I promised Éomer that my sword and his should be drawn together."

"Now indeed there is hope of victory!" Éomer said.

Buffy turned to him with a wry glance. "I vote one for the slave-driver," she muttered. Both Aragorn and Éomer turned to her, but Gandalf spoke quickly, drawing the attention of both men back to him before an argument could break out.

"Hope, yes," he said, smiling sternly at his young charge. "But Isengard is strong. And other perils draw ever nearer. Do not delay, Théoden, when we are gone. Lead your people to safety at the Hold of Dunharrow."

"No, Gandalf," said Théoden. "You do not know your own skill in healing. It shall not be so. I myself will go to war, to fall in front of the battle, if it must be."

"You… go to war?" Buffy asked, staring at a man who had, a half hour before, been a walking corpse.

"Who will guide your people if you will not go with them?" Gandalf asked.

"Uh, guys?" Buffy asked, stepping into the sunlight. "I have an idea." Many heads swung to look at her, yet she didn't step away. Her features were strong, her gaze determined. Although these people were bigger, they didn't intimidate her. As Gríma had been dragged out, something else had, too. Her fear, her reservations and her loneliness. Hell, it was great to have Gandalf back. As it was great to have Éomer free from his prison cell (although Buffy wished for once he would quit glaring at her like that) and Éowyn in her good graces.

It appeared as though many men of this hall may have underestimated this charge of Gandalf's. But before they could say anything to counteract or even demand to hear her 'idea', there was the sound of footfalls approaching. Théoden looked up and smiled grimly as the form of Gríma Wormtongue came into view.

- - - -

Buffy was well aware that she had attracted a lot of attention since she'd decided to make her presence known. She was not known for her everlasting patience or understanding, which was probably the likely reason why she had jumped into the fight. After spending how many days cooped up in this stuffy Golden Hall, she was ready to prove that Buffy Summers still had worth, even as Anne or Merilin or whatever name they called her next. She almost laughed. She had more than one name. That alone in her thoughts was ridiculous.

She had gone down with Háma to the dungeons to release Éomer. Actually, she'd been along in the event that no one would want him to be set free. She was willing to kick their asses. These people needed their General. And she, in some odd way, found maybe she needed him, too. He would make her work in this country a lot easier if he wasn't behind iron bars. He was like the masculine version of Faith, with full body armor and a beard.

When he saw her, his jaw dropped. She wore something his sister might wear, but wore a dark cloak over her gown, covering every last trace of her ability to fit in Rohirric society, erasing in any sense anything that may have caused him to think she could be like Éowyn. Her hood had been down so he could see who it was, but he was even more surprised when she opened the door herself and held it there.

"Your people need you," Buffy said to him.

He saw the intensity of her hazel eyes then. She had proud eyes, too. He lowered his own and turned to Háma, commanding the Doorward to bring him his sword. When he turned back to the young woman, he'd found she'd disappeared.

She was trickery, she was.

Upstairs now, she could see that Gríma was trembling as he was placed before the youthful King. Buffy had half a mind to run out there and throttle him herself, but she knew she'd get her chance later.

Or perhaps sooner than later, since Gríma was staring at Gandalf, rage flashing in his pale eyes. Her own eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. Little did he know she wasn't about to be bullied by anyone, least of all this scum.

"Here, my lord," Háma said, stepping before his King and bending down to one knee, offering the hilt of a very handsome sword, one with gold and green gems. All stood and watched as Théoden rose to take the hilt in his hand and gave it a dramatic twirl in the sunlight.

"I see this pleases you," Wormtongue said, his pale tongue licking his thin lips. "I care for you and yours as best as I may. Your meat is ready; will you not go to it?"

Buffy almost started laughing. This little worm was about to distract the King of this country by offering him meat? Diversion, much? At best she let out a small snort and Gandalf glanced at her, warning flashing in his eyes.

"I will," Théoden replied, gazing at the smaller man before him. "And prepare food for my guests on the board beside me. The host shall ride today."

"It is as I feared," Gríma said in his tragic voice. "The wizard has bewitched you. Will you leave none to guard the Hall of your fathers or men to defend your treasure?"

Théoden's head snapped up, anger etching in his face. "And speak not of your treachery? Your leechcraft would have had me walking on all fours like a beast! No… if you remain in my service, I bid you come with me and prove your faith."

Buffy's eyes saw Gríma's slowly turn to Éowyn, who was watching this scene with great disgust on her lovely young face.

"If you seek my faith, I will remain at the Hall of the Mark and keep all things until your return," Wormtongue said in a velvety voice.

"You think we're gonna trust you?" Buffy asked loudly, stepping out from behind Gandalf. Gríma's eyes widened when he saw her standing there in his company. "You wouldn't stop till you're King."

"No," Gandalf said stoutly. "You do not fully understand the treachery at work here." He turned to Gríma. "How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, were you to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you have so desired? Too long have you watched her. Too long have you haunted her steps."

As Gandalf spoke, Gríma's eyes returned to Éowyn, who returned his lecherous look with a disgusted gaze of her own.

"I would have slain you, as I knew this," Éomer said darkly. "But there are other reasons." He stepped forward then, his own sword raised, but Gandalf lifted his arm to hold him back.

He didn't, however, realize the figure moving on the other side of him moved far more quickly than he would have gathered, and was soon slamming the deranged servant of Saruman into the nearest column. Her eyes were flashing as she held him by his throat, which was a mark unto itself, since she was still shorter than he. "You should have known that if they didn't kill you, I would," she snarled.

For a moment, no one did anything. It wasn't until a figure stepped out and gently pried her away did the young woman finally come to her senses, but she threw the figure aside in abhorrence. "I don't need a Ranger's help," she snapped, turning about and storming from the room.

"Disregarding her rather poetic device of handling things," said Gandalf, a smile playing around his lips, "I am nevertheless correct: Éowyn is safe now. But you, Wormtongue, you are not safe. If one of the men in these Halls do not take your life, I am certain that Merilin would not hesitate to do it for them. Go back to Saruman and let his deed be done; you have done the best you were able to do."

Gríma slowly lifted himself from the floor and glared at Aragorn, who recoiled backwards several steps in apparent disgust. Then he turned to face Théoden, darkness in his gaze. Straightening to his tallest height, he spat at the King's feet and burst forth down the stairs.

"After him!" Théoden cried. "See to it that he does not harm any!"

But Gríma apparently hadn't faced his last battle at Rohan yet. As he stormed down the corridor, the damned woman who'd nearly tried to kill him upstairs was down here too, and within seconds she had a knife to his throat. Pinned against the wall, he quailed under her cold, intense gaze.

"Tell your Master this for me," she said, pressing the blade into his neck. "Gandalf isn't the only one he has to fear anymore."

"If you think Saruman would fear you," Gríma said, his eyes mocking. "You have no power here."

"I think you'll see you're wrong. Again. I'm not the one to be afraid of. Yet." She wedged the knife even closer to his skin and stood on tiptoe so that she could whisper into his ear. "The next time we meet, you're dead." Pulling back, she gave him a strange look of triumph as he fled. Within seconds, guards passed her as she sank into the shadows, sheathing her knife underneath her dark cloak. Well, at least that was over for now.

Tugging at her hair, which had come undone from the upsweep she'd managed to get it in, she retraced her steps and found everyone standing before the King as the prepared to go to dinner. Théoden had just given the order that every able-bodied man should suit up and get ready to ride, since the King was about to take on Saruman head-on.

"As if we don't get enough excitement around here," Buffy muttered as she followed the King to his table. As she walked, she heard a voice imploring to her.

"You need not have done that," Éowyn said quietly, stepping out of the shadows. Her eyes were shining as she gazed at this woman, barely younger than herself.

"I wasn't about to let him treat you like that," Buffy said, a repugnant look on her face. "You're so far above him, I doubt he can even see that sunlight."

Éowyn looked humbled as she gestured towards the stairs and the room with the King's board. "Will you not join us? I am certain the King will not mind. You have stood for his sister-daughter."

Buffy shrugged and glanced at her cloak. "Why not?" she asked. "At least this way I can pledge myself to go to war."

Éowyn's eyes were wide. "You will ride to war?"

"It's not like I haven't done that before," Buffy said darkly. "Let's go… or else by the time we get down there, they'll all be riding off without me. And I, for one, don't like being left behind."

- - - -

The next chapter: why ticking off a Marshal is never an intelligent thing to do; Buffy meets the Fellowship's royal trio.

- - - -

Sneak Preview – I Capture the Sun

_This is a "sneak" excerpt from my newest fiction, _**I Capture the Sun**_, my Buffy/Legolas story. It is nearing completion and once enough of _**Journey's End**_ is posted, I will begin posting this, unless I get bored and decide to do so anyway._

**Summary:** After leaping through the portal, Buffy arrives in Middle-earth, which she perceives to be Heaven. Joining with a female tribe to help protect the people who rescued her from the enemies of the land, she finds herself as a leader of a powerful Amazon army… until one of her plans to help eradicate the Mirkwood threat backfires and she finds herself at the mercy of the Mirkwood Prince, at last finding something worth fighting for. _Set thirty years before the Fellowship of the Ring_.

From Part I

The horns blew at dawn.

Those encamped in the narrow circle of tents and horses sprang to their feet as utter chaos fell around them.

For a moment, they wondered why their scouts had sounded the alarm.

And then all hell broke loose.

There was a loud cry as a figure came from the shadows, a sword flashing in her hands. There were more cries, all of them undoubtedly female. The men in the camp quickly came to arms, but by the time they had arranged themselves into some sort of order, their captain had been pulled aside by a slender figure wielding a dangerous-looking sword. Her eyes were flashing with hatred as she held the tip to their faithful Captain's neck.

"Put down your weapons," she called clearly.

All of the men complied with her order, hoping she would release her hold on their Captain, but she did not do anything of the like. Instead, she glared forcefully at all of the faces staring at her with a mixture of fear, uncertainty and awe.

"What are you doing in this land?" another voice asked. This figure was taller and carried a bow, looking slightly angered. "You pass through the land of the Lady of Shadow."

The men all glanced at one another, sudden understanding in their eyes. They had heard the tales of a woman who fought alone by night, taking out many foes.

"You lie," the Captain said, spluttering through his shattered nose as the woman's grip around his neck tightened.

"Take a good look, buddy," the figure hissed before shoving him forcefully to the ground. As she did, she revealed herself, her sword falling to her side, her eyes full of fury. "You wanna see a living legend? Here I am. You hear those stories that all those old men told of this woman who came and fought at night? You're looking at her. This is my land, so I suggest you get the hell out of here before we decide to party."

There was a rustling in the bushes as more women came, all of them in long black trousers and tunic-tops, wielding swords, bows and spears. They all wore the same look, one of mingled fury.

"We travel to Dunharrow, my Lady," said one of the lieutenants, taking a step forward. The woman turned and silenced him with her piercing hazel-eyed gaze.

"You want passage, you ask for it," she snapped. "I have not spent the last two decades making this land safe only to have men come and spread their... filth about it." Her eyes regarded him coldly. "You've got two hours. Get out of here, or I'll let these girls have some fun."

It was obvious she wasn't just saying these words, as some of the women looked positively delighted. They all turned to the men with a sort of hungered look in their eyes.

"Long have you gone unchecked through our land," the dark-haired woman said, standing next to the somewhat shorter woman.

"We only ask to travel through the hills," the Captain said, his hand cupping the flow of blood from his nose. "There is nothing else we ask."

The woman with the fair-colored hair regarded him for a moment, but then stepped hard on something upon the ground and a small axe went flipping into her hand.

"You have two hours," she said softly, a brief flash of compassion in her eyes. "Now get out of here. We've fought both the pointy-ears and the straight-backs. There's a reason why no man has passed this land in five years... and that's me."

"But--" the lieutenant protested weakly, his voice falling away as the dark-haired woman glared at him.

"You dare deny an order from a royal?" she asked coldly.

"Siri, down," the blonde said, stepping into the light of their camp. "Get out while you still can," she told the lieutenant calmly. "There are worse things than Elves in these hills."

Then, spinning, she disappeared. The dark-haired woman and a few others followed, but those surrounding the camp stood their ground, their weapons in their hands, obviously making due on the threat of the woman.

The captain sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Break camp," he uttered in frustration. "We do not need the company of the Shadow upon us."

_Another preview may come later at the request of co-author. _

_- - - -_


	6. A New Dawn

**Miscellaneous**

Answers: I may have to write a Buffy/Aragorn for all of you who have been asking for one. I'm afraid and you'll soon see why that couple would not be so probable in this world. I posted the first part of 'I Capture the Sun' this evening, and it will hopefully be updated once a week. I have more time on my hands now that I have finally completed and turned in my last senior paper. Thank you for your encouragement on that story, and this as well.

Pairings: There are book pairings. It will be Buffy/Unconventional, before you read further.

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the books.

Thank You's: The reviews are enlightening and hearken to me... they actually make me want to complete the revisions for Journey's End. Many thanks to you all for your kind words and encouragement... without your opinions, this story would forever remain in the vault of our faithful guild. I really do appreciate reviews, as this is the first story I have ever written, not to mention the first crossover, first Buffy story and first Lord of the Rings story. I would love opinions, even if they are suggestions, as I am working to fix this story to somewhat be plausible.

_Point One to Water Mage: I think you just struck the reason why we decided not to finish this in the first place and why we finally came back to it. Case in point, we're trying. We really are. We feel out of our element. The thing about the strength and personality, we know. She's coming into her own (with the ironic pop culture references to come, astoundingly enough). As for her comment about Gandalf, she's seen a Witch, her best friend, one of a circle of powerful people in her life. And yet she's in a place considerably less high-tech than the world she just left behind and seeing someone with the power that __Willow__ could have is... it makes her realize just what __Willow__ could do given the same powers, or if they are the same power. I really hope our version of Buffy improves. Otherwise it is quite back to the drawing board because I will have to give up on the fact that pulling a heroine into a different story is a little beyond my skill._

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Buffy meets the Fellowship's trio.

Chapter Warning: This chapter is pretty much one of the few originals of the story, set to give Buffy more ME character development. The end of it may have some minor book references.

- - - -

**Chapter 6**

**A New Dawn**

Written by _Alyson Kay_

- - - -

By the time they returned to the room, the others had gathered around the King and were feasting on what looked like a roast pig. Or else it was raw. Buffy silently closed her mouth and backed away.

"Will you not join us?" Éowyn asked quietly.

"Oh, okay," Buffy replied, her eyes on the pig's little eyes staring right back at her. "Sure… why not?"

"Why do you hesitate?" Éowyn asked, smiling at the young woman's reluctance. She looked as though she'd never seen an animal on a table before. Well, maybe she hadn't. She certainly had not seen one with little yellow eyes staring straight at her.

"That… pig keeps staring at me," Buffy said uncomfortably. Éowyn followed her gaze and frowned when she saw that Éomer was glancing at them, frowning.

"I am hoping you do not mean my brother," she said in a voice of barely concealed amusement at the ravenous looks upon the faces of the men (and others) inside the Hall.

"Oh, not him, although he's not winning any brownie points either," Buffy said reassuringly. "No, I meant the actual pig… it looks… alive… you didn't by any chance go and capture one of the three little pigs from the fairy tale now, did you?"

Éowyn, who hadn't the faintest idea what Buffy was talking about, only shook her head. Seeing that Buffy was still going to hesitate, the Marshal stood up and made his way to the entrance.

"Will you come in, or will you wait until all of the food is gone before you join us?" he asked.

Éowyn was called by Théoden to come forward, and Éomer, in his usual style, grabbed Buffy by the arm and started hauling her backwards out of the sight of the others.

"This is really getting old," Buffy muttered as she rubbed at her bicep again. "Not to mention the fact you keep staring. It's not like I killed your puppy, so why do you keep looking at me? What about me is so appealing to stare-age?"

"I would have once seen you as a traitor," Éomer said in his low hiss of a voice. "But now I find that you are in league with Gandalf Greyhame and of this you did not inform me."

"I was kind of busy at the time," Buffy snapped, glaring right back at him. "You were trying to kill me, remember? You're the one who had the pointy end of the sword at my neck, not the other way around. What would you have done?"

"If you believe that my King will allow you to ride to war with us… you are sorely mistaken," Éomer said coldly.

"I won't ride for Théoden then," Buffy replied, her anger giving way to an exultant smile. "I'll go with Gandalf. He trusts me. He knows what I am."

"What are you, besides one who twists words and makes lie all of the spoils the Golden Hall offers?" Éomer demanded.

"You brought me here, you... you…" Words utterly failed her in her moment of frustration. She longed to throttle him to death, yet she held her stance. "Okay, so your sister made me a guest here, and for that I am thankful. But I don't go around collecting any spoils, your worship, and I'm the last thing you can think of as evil! Do I look even remotely threatening to you?"

"There are some who would speak otherwise," Éomer said darkly. "But I truly believe you are formidable despite your lack of stature."

"Good," Buffy said, crossing her arms in front of her. "As for the twisting of words and making good with all the spoils, I didn't lie to you. I'm from the north and I'm not from this world. That's all I can tell you because I don't even know where I am and how I got here. The only other person who knows is your sister, and I happen to like her."

"And you took in account her honor," Éomer said, giving this woman at last a compliment.

"I didn't like the way he was looking at her," Buffy said, lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes. Tears of resentment and frustration were growing closer to breaking, and she'd be damned before she let this man see her cry. She hid her shaking hands of anger and restlessness and eyed the man still staring down at her.

"You have a woman's honor, yet you fight as though you were a man," Éomer continued.

Forcing herself to swallow hard, she looked up at the taller Marshal. "It's the story of my life," she said, trying to keep the hard edge out of her tone.

He took in her tragic face, her tear-stained eyes and the fact that her hands wouldn't stop quivering. "You are restless," he observed.

"No," she replied, finally getting the courage to walk past him. "You just piss me off." This was the fastest way to get away from him. He made her feel uncomfortable, and she wasn't willing to deal with these emotions just yet. It was beyond frustrating to know she was the only one in this world of her kind. At least the Powers could have killed off another one of her friends to give her some company, in an ironic humorous twist of things.

He watched as she retreated into shadows before turning back towards the room. He found Éowyn there, anger in her eyes.

"What have you done?" she asked her brother, before rushing off after the younger woman.

"She was not truthful," Éomer said quietly to no one in particular.

Éowyn found Buffy sitting on the last stair. Her head was in her hands and she seemed to be trying to pull herself together. "He does not understand what it is like to be one of us," Éowyn said gently, reaching a hand out to grasp the woman's shoulder.

Buffy lifted her tired eyes and smiled. "Yes, he does," she said with a bitter laugh. "The only problem is, it scares him." Rising, she brushed off her dark gown and matching cloak. "I should probably go back in there and face the music, huh?"

Buffy and Éowyn both reentered the room and found themselves the center of attention. Apparently her argument with Éomer had sounded outside these thick, stone walls. With a sigh, she took the seat offered to her by Gandalf and gave him a grateful smile. At least one person still believed in her. She was also relieved that Éomer would no longer look at her. It made a good change from all of the staring.

She realized then that she was in the company of a man, an Elf and a dwarf, all of whom she didn't know, but had seen just a few days ago. As Gandalf handed her a prepared plate, he took the liberty of introducing her to these three members of the former Fellowship.

"I do not believe you have yet met Merilin, who has come to my service upon my return in Lothlórien." The men murmured their consent; all with their eyes on the young woman who was trying to eat without being stared at for once, and finally set her bone aside and lifted her intense hazel-eyed gaze.

"Hello," she said calmly.

"She is known to be a Dagnir of her people," Gandalf continued, his eyes on the young woman as he spoke, his hand on his chalice.

Instantly, two of their faces started to transform from mild puzzlement to blatant misunderstanding, as though they weren't sure what they heard was the truth.

The Dwarf was the first to speak, however. "And what exactly is this Dagnir?" he asked, staring at a woman just taller than he was. Buffy was finally pleased to find someone shorter than her that wasn't a child.

"She is a Slayer of demons," the Elf replied in wonder, his long golden hair swinging fairly about his face as he turned to Gandalf. "These are the works of legends, Mithrandir. How did she come to this world?"

"I died," Buffy replied. Now everyone, including the King, was staring at her and she started fidgeting under all of the attention of so many males. Especially good-looking ones, because even King Théoden, old as he was, had a bit of youthful drive in those blue eyes of his. "I was told by the Powers… err, really unhelpful people who try and mess with my life, really… I had to come here and fulfill one last destiny." She made a face as she looked down. "I didn't ask for it, and once again they screwed with me. They dumped me in a place where men are apparently on steroids and women have become the Stepford wives."

"And yet you have come before me," Théoden replied, surveying this woman in a new light. "You have risked great ill will to come before a King whose mind was overthrown."

She gave him a guilty smile. "Maybe a little," she admitted.

"It does not matter how she got here," Aragorn, the Ranger said. He was staring at this smaller woman with great interest now. "What matters now are her intentions."

"I'm in this to the end," Buffy replied calmly, glad that no one, least of all Éomer, was going to start yelling at her again. "No matter what happens, you have my loyalty and my sword. I think you'll find it quite useful, considering this arm has been used to slay hell-gods and evil preacher men." She was gazing at the King now, who seemed to grow even stronger in the presence of her intense gaze.

"Then, Merilin the Dagnir, I shall tell you this," Aragorn replied. "I am Aragorn of Gondor, and this is Gimli, son of Glóin and Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

"I know who you all are," Buffy replied with a shrug. "You were part of some Fellowship that is now broken."

"Broken yes, but not abandoned," Aragorn said, a bite to his voice. Buffy studied his face a moment before shrugging again and returning to her meal.

"Indeed this is a new day," said Théoden, gazing between the white wizard and this young woman who was supposedly a strong fighter of some sorts. "Much do I owe to Éomer, for opening my eyes to the poison before me, and remaining ever faithful by my side." He gazed at his nephew fondly and raised a goblet to him. "You bring back more fortune that you have realized." His eyes darted over to the blonde sitting two chairs away, who returned his gaze intently.

Buffy sighed inwardly. Trust the King, of all people, to say something that would make that blasted Marshal glare at her again. She was in no mood to get into yet another shouting match with him. No, she was glaring at her plate now, the tension evident in how she held her fork.

"Now comes the question of my heir," Théoden said, as though it were an afterthought. He turned to his counsel. "I have no son, as Théodred has fallen. I shall name Éomer to be my heir lest the King fall in battle. But he is to fight, and there must be someone to remain behind."

"What about Éowyn?" Buffy asked loudly. Once again she became the center of attention, but this time she didn't flinch or look away. "She's a good woman, and a good leader. Everyone likes her, or at least no one's tried tossing stones at her yet." At this, the Dwarf made a carnal noise, as though clearing his throat. She chose to ignore it as coincidence and turned expectantly back to the King.

"Then it is settled," Théoden replied as he rose to his feet, lifting his goblet. "Let this hour be the one where my heirs come forth and meet one last time. Éowyn shall rule in my stead, ere the battles go ill. Long may she defend Edoras and the Mark." Everyone rose to toast to her, and Buffy was among the loudest who cried, "Hail!" Only hers was a jumbled, "Heh!"

Éowyn stepped forward, a golden goblet in her hand, with wine. She walked up to her Uncle and said something in her own native tongue and he took it, sipping from it before clasping her hands. "The day will come when Rohan's strength will come alive," he promised her. "You will see these days renewed."

She managed a weak smile as those around the table rose and began to drift off. Buffy caught one last movement as Gandalf pulled her aside. Éowyn had gone up to Aragorn and had offered him the goblet, smiling. He sipped at it, but didn't return the pleasantries. Buffy stiffened slightly. She was going to have to talk to that Ranger about his manners.

"Our work in this land is done for now," Gandalf told her as she continued to slowly eat her way through a hearty bit of pork and vegetables. "We must go with Théoden-King, as you have now pledged your life to him and I have work left to complete."

Buffy stopped chewing for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I have, haven't I?" she asked, swallowing and reaching for her own glass. Gandalf saw the reproachful look she threw towards the new First Marshal glaring at her from the doorway. "Maybe now he'll leave me alone."

"I do not think that is his intention," Gandalf said quietly. Buffy nearly choked as she turned to the wizard in surprise.

"What?" she asked, her eyes widening. "You mean he's going to keep torturing me until I'm dead? Oh, this is just…" she cut off again, and shook her head in mock-misery. "Can't I just once die in peace? Please… please, please, please."

"I know that you did not ask for this life and that it was a life given to you," Gandalf said. "I have faith in you that these others will share. I walked and strayed out of thought and time and for awhile I saw your life."

Her eyes clouded over as she looked thoughtfully at him. "You watched my life? It wasn't that impressive. A battle here, an apocalypse there…" She gave a bitter chuckle. "Which life of mine did you get to see? There have been three of them."

"I watched you die to save your world," Gandalf said quietly. "There is no greater heroism than this, and yet you live with the weight of the world on your shoulders. You have fought for many years alone, but now it is time to cast that aside. It is time for you to become more than a Dagnir. It is time for you to live again."

There was a deep sadness lost in her eyes as she looked back at him. "I spent many years working alone to save the world," she replied. "And that world killed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. I'm done living in the shadow of that world. Maybe it's time I start to live in this one. If I keep going around thinking all I'm good for is dying again…" Her eyes darkened and she sighed. "Then I'm already dead, and I don't even exist. Not here, not anywhere. I don't understand it if these are the choices." She glowered at her plate before pushing it away. "I don't know how to live in a world I don't understand. I come from a place where the power was in the woman… and here? All I see is a severe case of Testosterone poisoning." She clapped her hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Command me, lord, for I wish to go and get my head chopped off at your earliest disposal…" Trailing off, she rolled her eyes. "Just another taste of home," she classified quickly at Gandalf's puzzled look as she returned her gaze to her plate.

"You will understand this world when you see what it is they're fighting for," Gandalf replied, patting her hand comfortingly. "What you need is faith in those around you, and that is not your decision solely to make. No… all we have to decide is what to do with the time that has been given to us. You fight because you believe in something. These men fight for their country, their kin and their lives. They have more to live for. It is time you put your faith in them and become the one we all hope you can be."

Buffy gave him a small smile. "You sound like I did a few months ago," she said fondly, smiling at her old Buffy-pre-combat moments.

"I was hoping it would find you in a piece of mind," Gandalf replied, bowing his head. "You have left to live for, Merilin."

"Gandalf, you know I like you already, because you remind me of my Watcher," Buffy said, regarding him thoughtfully. "Please, call me Buffy. I don't know if I'll ever respond to Merilin."

"In their company, you are known as Merilin, and such as I will call you. If you wish it, I will call you whatever your heart desires as long as you put forth the effort a world is waiting for you to do," Gandalf replied. "Once you look upon this world as it truly exists, you will see what it is we are fighting and dying for. But for now, we must hasten. As Rohan's army gathers strength, we must ride swift and hard to the north. To do this, we leave a part of the adventure behind. We must leave Frodo and Samwise to continue their journey."

"Oh, those are the other two!" Buffy said, clasping a hand over her mouth. "They're the ones with the Ring, right?"

"You remember much from the counsel of Galadriel," Gandalf told her with him patented patient smile. "Yes, their journey continues and their paths will lead them into Ithilien. But our journey takes us west towards the great fortress of Rohan, Helm's Deep."

"All right, I'm going," Buffy grumbled. "Just don't expect me to be nice to the King's nephew. We didn't meet on good terms and it'll be a cold day in hell before we part in anything of the like." She paused a moment. "And about that other stuff… I have to try. Buffy Summers doesn't give up without a fight and it's about time I see what a fight is like in this world. As long as I don't have to face that idiot Worntongue again, anyway. Because he's a dead man."

"This is all I ask," Gandalf replied, bowing his head again.

Buffy rose and set away her things before she left the room. She was unaware that she was being followed until she reached the steps. Turning, she swung out her arm, which was caught in an iron grip. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was standing there. "Uh, Aragorn… what can I do for you?" she asked uneasily, taking a few steps away from him. She was kind of getting tired of people grabbing her all the time. Was that the way things worked in this world? If they did, she was going to have to work on that, too.

"I know how it feels to carry the weight of those left behind," he said gently, placing his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. "You should not have to carry the weight of the dead." That said, he strode past her and back up the stairs, just as great horns sounded from above. Buffy stared after him, a frown line appearing in her forehead. Apparently everyone spoke in riddles.

"The men are ready!" a voice shouted from above them.

"It's my lucky day," Buffy muttered as she followed Aragorn's steps and found herself back in the Golden Hall. Many men were in this room, dressed in more of that pretty silver armor. Spying Gandalf's white cloak glowing brighter than anything these men could wear, she edged closer to him. She wasn't too happy to see that the Elf was standing right next to the wizard, and she really didn't feel like talking to anyone else right now. In fact, she was beginning to regret even getting out of bed. She would have turned and just walked out until a voice came into her ear.

"Merilin."

It was Éowyn. Feeling relieved, Buffy ducked away, but not before Gandalf had seen her. Even as he called out to her, Buffy wouldn't dare turn back. Éowyn was the first person, besides her infuriating brother, who had taken her up in this Hall, and Buffy wasn't about to let that go to waste. She was beginning to consider Éowyn as more than a mere acquaintance.

"What is it?" Buffy asked her.

Éowyn cast a look at the men in the room before drawing Buffy into the shadow of the far corner. She looked almost reluctant to say what was on her mind, but was dead-set to speak of it. Finally, "You will not like what you find."

"I've seen a lot in my time," Buffy said firmly. The last thing she needed was Éowyn's pessimistic attitude again. "You're human, right? You fight, you live, you die, you shack and you pray to whatever power you believe in that today isn't your last. If these men are fighting for something so big for my puny little brain to understand, then I'm part of an army now and we've declared war on evil. I've done that. I'll deal."

"You do not know this world, and I fear for you safety when you do see what it is we have been fighting for," Éowyn explained, seeing the darkened look on the other woman's face.

"You'd be surprised at what I've lived through," Buffy said softly. Her eyes were down, and a flash of her old life came before her gaze as she lifted it up again. There was no fear in her eyes, only a grim realization and the determination of someone who have faced a lot in a short amount of time. This world was proving to be no different. She knew that some of the men could probably see her, and she was being weak, but she no longer cared. She wasn't part of their boy-scout fight-club. No, she was part of something else. She was in the service of the Wizard. That counted for everything in her life. It was her life. And it was going to be the end of her life. "I've faced demons and vampires and hell-gods. I've died three times and I'm still here, aren't I? You think I haven't seen anything? No one's seen me yet. When they do, they're going to find out that I'm not just a legend." She was stronger than a coward; she always had been. Living in the shadow of an old life wasn't going to change that; she'd given up on being normal years ago. "I'm for real and I'm not going away, no matter what I see. If this is war, then it's war. And they're about to meet someone they never saw coming."

Éowyn's eyes were still weary as Buffy stepped away from her. Gandalf called to her and she came to him, looking troubled. Aragorn and Legolas were currently being tortured into putting on the Rohirric armor, something Buffy found most amusing until Gandalf nudged her forward at Éothain's command of, "Let the man who does not wear armor step forth!"

Éothain wasn't sure whether to laugh or not at the sight of the young woman standing there, glaring behind at the wizard who simply glanced away. Rolling her eyes, she glanced at Éothain expectantly. The lieutenant stood there, waiting for orders. When none came, he finally spoke up. "Is this some foolish trick or do we adorn all of the women in our land with the armor of a rider?"

"Do I look like I'm one of you?" Buffy snapped, losing patience completely. "I wouldn't be able to fit into any of that anyway. It was built for Goliath."

"You must ride with armor," Gandalf said, blinking benignly at her.

"So the Wizard speaks," she said with a tight smile as she turned to glare reproachfully at him. "Thanks a lot."

Sighing, she turned to Éothain. "You wouldn't happen to have any of that shiny stuff for someone like me, would you?"

"We do not clothe women in such things," Éothain told her disdainfully. "And seeing as how you are a woman, there is no place for you in war."

That was obviously not the right thing to say, for it took the strength of Éomer to hold back this woman from attacking his lieutenant. "You don't… know who… you are talking… about!" she cried as she tried kicking and punching her way to him, as other guards surrounded Éothain, looking stunned. Aragorn quickly stepped forward, and with the strength of two, they managed to drag Buffy across the floor. When her feet were firmly on the ground, she spun on Éomer. "You had no right to do that!"

"And what right have you to attack my men on the eve of battle?" Éomer shouted back. "We do not have time for this."

"Éomer is right," Aragorn said with a sigh. "We have not the time nor the patience for such outbursts."

"I'm not going to stay behind," Buffy said angrily, her eyes narrowing.

"No, she will have to come," Gandalf said as he parted the crowd, Legolas and Gimli at his side. "But I must ask that you keep your temper in check, Merilin. There is no time for this anger. Reserve your anger for the battle."

Buffy, looking very put out, sighed and held up her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry," she said, although she sounded anything but. "Now can I please get some armor?"

"We have nothing for a… person of your size," Éomer said regretfully. She turned her sharp eyes towards his and he averted his gaze. He wasn't used to seeing women in the position of attacking his men… and winning. Never had he seen it before. Treachery was she, but courage she had, too. This could prove useful in Rohan's favor. "Come with me."

Buffy followed Éomer through the Golden Hall until they came to rest in a room cluttered with old armaments. He was holding a tough-looking shield and he handed it to her. She took it easily. It was then he noticed the look on her face.

"Do not despair over a simple argument," he said, as he opened a cabinet and began searching inside. "War has come and now is not the time to bicker simple misunderstandings. He does not know of you as I do. He did not hear your tale as I have."

"All you know is that I kill demons for a living," Buffy retorted as she glanced around the room. "Where are we?"

"My own private stores," Éomer said, his voice muffled by the sound of his cabinet. "Éowyn knows not to enter here."

"That makes sense," she muttered, giving her shield a bit of a twirl. Her hand glided over the smooth surface, bearing a horse in green. "It's a nice shield."

"This belonged to my cousin," Éomer replied, pulling his head out of the cabinet and handing her a pile of something that looked like a bunch of necklaces sewn together. "These both were among his things. This mail should fit you as well as any we have. And this shield should long protect you from the assaults of Sauron."

"Stylish," she quipped, holding it out before her. "It kind of puts Liz Taylor to shame."

She realized that being here in his private room was costing him a level of his own pride and dignity. The least she could do was say her thanks. "Thank you," she said, giving him a genuine smile. As she turned to leave, she seemed to comprehend something. "You were not wrong about me wanting to become a member of this House," she said, and he turned to look at her, surprise in his face. "Your sister is a wonderful woman, much more than you give her credit for. Even if both you and your Uncle die, I have a lot of faith she'll be able to sustain Rohan."

"I would expect nothing less of her," Éomer said, bowing his head. "However, before we continue to make light of my sister's duty, we must make haste and ride to war."

"You make it sound so easy," Buffy said, stepping out of the room and holding the door open so that he could exit.

"We have already lost too many," Éomer said as they walked towards the doorways leading into the sunlight. "To lose more would bring Rohan permanent defeat."

"You're a good General," Buffy said sarcastically. "Nice and pessimistic… just like Caesar himself." She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Look… If these people ever had a reason to fight, it's because they believe in something. If you don't believe in winning, why should they?"

"What do you believe in?" he asked her as she set her shield on the ground near her boots.

"I believe in living, breathing, dying, bleeding… I just wanna live," Buffy said, looking around the room again. "I've fought all sorts of nasties, so you don't have to worry about me. I'll hold my own. But these people, they need their General Scorpio. I'm in this to the end, or so the Powers say. Even if it's tonight, I'm with you."

"It may very well be," he said, looking at her again. "Can you ride horseback or will you need to—"

"I'll ride," Buffy said quickly. The thought of riding either in front of or behind another rider made her flush slightly. "Besides, don't want to be a burden."

They burst out of the doors then. The sight before her took her by some surprise. There were more than a thousand riders trotting through the pathways and out of the gate. Two horses were brought forward at the sight of the Marshal and the wizard's charge. Buffy hastily donned her armor and was surprised to see that it fit her quite well. She glanced up as Éowyn came rushing up to them.

"Edoras shall be emptied tonight," she said, handing Buffy her belt and her sword. "We will go to Dunharrow and make our stand there if indeed this end has come." Buffy chuckled as she sheathed it.

"Thanks," Buffy said, as she managed to get on top of her horse again. Her back creaked in protest, but she managed to get on top of the handsome saddle and pat her grey mare's head lovingly. "Don't get yourself killed, Éowyn," she said softly, taking the other woman's hand in her own leather-clad grip. "There'll be time for that later."

In the distance, she saw the golden hair of the Elf and the squatter form of the Dwarf ride out with Aragorn past the gates.

Éomer was much more proficient getting on his horse. With a final nod to his sister, he rode off. Buffy hesitated a moment. This was her second big step forward. Éowyn saw the fear in the woman's eyes and sighed.

"Do not be afraid," she offered. "Whatever end may come, there is now hope in this world. You bring me faith, and for this, no treasure of this House can ever repay."

Buffy gave her a sad smile. Giving her horse a final prod, she rode off after Éomer.

Most of the men were already gathered in the fields. Buffy soon joined them and rode up to Gandalf, who looked quite impressed that she was able to both mount and control her mare. Her wry glance towards him told him that she was indeed a novice at this, and he chose not to comment on this further.

Then she realized that Gandalf wasn't riding any horse. She was about to offer her own when a white stallion came from the fields, neighing. When the horse stopped, it stopped in front of the wizard, who mounted him cleanly.

"Shadowfax, the lord of the mearas," he explained to Buffy's mystified expression. "This is a gift from the King. But ride, we must."

Théoden and Éomer were both at the front of the large group now, and the entire group was pulling themselves into lines. Gandalf rode ahead and Buffy quickly made to follow, except her horse started darting anxiously sideways, as though she knew of her rider's reluctance to leave this comfortable city behind.

Maybe she didn't know what to expect. But she'd find out when she got there. It had always been the story of her life. It would continue to be the story of her life. And she would probably die not knowing everything she needed to.

"Behold Théoden King and the White Rider!"

Then, as one enormous and very disorganized column, the entire group charged forward.

- - - -

As promised, another update. They will usually be done twice a week unless something comes up. Since this story is finally nearing completion, I am comfortable releasing these chapters now. They are usually between 6 to 10 pages in length and currently there are twenty two parts. I hope to finish this story prior to graduation and moving back home, but where the winds of fortune take me, no man (or being) can say.

In the next chapter, Buffy rides into the Black Night and falls into familiar territory when it comes to leading before wisdom.


	7. Black Night

**Miscellaneous**

Pairings: There are book pairings. We are still debating on whether or not to have Buffy pairings.

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the books.

Thank You's: I am trying to improve, and your encouragement helps. I only want this to improve and believe me, before we started adding onto it, this story sucked.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Buffy loses a Wizard and gains an army.

Chapter Warning: We have at last returned to a Katrina-chapter. It follows the book and then goes off on its own little tangent. It's the shorter of the next two chapters, but since this is leading up to our first battle sequence (and one we didn't want to plagiarize or summarize completely), so begins the beginning of the end of the innocence.

- - - - -

**Chapter 7**

**Black Night**

_By Katrina Claire_

- - - - -

Need consumed their drive to hurry to the north. From the small snatches of conversation that Buffy could hear, the King was worried that by the time they found the men who guarded the western borders of their country, none would be left alive. The entire plain was sounded by the pounding of hoofs and the lack of men's voices. Such was the grimness of this day.

Gandalf had spoken very little to her, but this she didn't mind. She concentrated on staying ahead of the more experienced riders. The Elf and Dwarf, on the other hand, were a completely different story. They rode quite close to her, since she really didn't know what she was doing. Apparently the Elf could see this, and the horse followed this other one gallantly. It was finally explained to her that they were siblings. This mare was a sister to Arod, the steed the two rode. This would explain why this mare followed the path of this other horse so diligently.

They rode until darkness came over them and it was far too dark to see anything anymore. If she thought it was uncomfortable around men during the daylight, it was nothing to how apprehensive she was to get off of her horse and walk around at night. Many blinking eyes stared at her over fireplaces. There were mutterings about strange women in this part, and Buffy was only too happy to ignore them at the present time. These people had no time for confrontations when war lied to the north and west.

She joined Gandalf at his fire. He was an old man and although he threatened to intimidate her (but normally couldn't), she could at least sleep around him. Many of the beautiful horses were now calmly resting in the valley, with night guards standing watch. Buffy would have volunteered to be one of them until Gandalf told her to rest.

She took him up on his word, but when the horns sounded at dawn, she was wide awake, staring at the dark sky above her, thinking. She had been having nightmares lately about people dying, the people she loved. After three or four hours of this, she finally rose and started walking about. Gandalf was sleeping. The men were, for the most part, resting. The Elf, she was startled to see, was walking around with his eyes open singing. Seeing as he was the only other person awake, she decided to talk to him.

He turned around when he heard the footsteps and glanced behind him. Frowning, his eyes drifted down until he saw the tired, weary expression of the one woman of their encampment.

"Hello," she said, gesturing to the sleeping bodies around them. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"I was resting," he said, his brilliant blue eyes taking in her appearance. She wore her armaments over her dress, which looked very odd indeed, yet the look was fitting for her. It brought a touch of femininity when otherwise there would be none. "My people can rest with our eyes open," he explained when he saw the confusion on her face.

"Oh," she said, giving him a nervous smile. "Sorry… I didn't mean to interrupt your… were you sleeping?" She sounded guilty now.

"I was not," he replied quickly, before she could hurry away. "Your apologies were not needed."

"I couldn't sleep," Buffy said, gazing at all of the fires in the hills. "Being a fighter, it takes something else to be stuck in a big Hall for days without the fight. I guess I just miss it most of all."

"You are what you are," Legolas replied in his impassive tone.

Buffy nodded in the darkness. "You're telling me… I spent my life dedicated to slaying. But now…I suppose I could bore Gandalf silly with all of my old victories."

"If you fight in this war, you will have many to share these tales with," Legolas told her comfortingly. "You may not know this, but your skills may be most welcome when the time comes."

"I think you mean when I fight," Buffy said with a sigh. Then, she remembered something: both he and Aragorn had known what a Dagnir was. "How did you know what I was?" she asked.

"Dagnir was once a character in a legend of tales," Legolas explained. "There was a woman who led a band of amazons on a quest to claim a relic and on their way her calling came to be that she could fight all of the forces of darkness. There has never been any truth to the stories and many have claimed it was just the tales of children."

"It sounds like a good story," Buffy said conversationally. "Perhaps you'll tell me it sometime."

"When this war is over and we both survive, I will tell you any tale," Legolas told her. He could see her smile in the darkness. "You should lie down and rest. Morning will come and we will be pressed to ride again."

Buffy returned to her flat ground and lay upon it, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead she spent the time thinking about the events over the past few weeks. She was used to the fighting, it wasn't much of a problem. The question of the waiting was. She wasn't good with sitting back and waiting for the action to come, since she had spent her life dedicated to making her own. Despite dwelling on what she wasn't doing, her thoughts turned to the newest companions of the King's company.

The Elf was absolutely… passive. He didn't strike her as someone who cared very much about the affairs of men, but he apparently had a friendship with a man who was a crownless King. That was just her first impression after their first conversation together. Once she saw him fight… she would understand him better. She wasn't the best judge of character, no. Her skills had been reserved for other things. As for Aragorn, the first word that came to mind wasn't one someone like her should be thinking. There was more than just something about him.

She knew the night was passing, yet her senses were attuned to every last sound of the land around her. She felt the ground murmuring with the sounds of hoof-beats from the horses just a few hundred feet away. She heard the sounds of snoring, which seemed to be a custom, since she did ride with a full company of men. There was stillness in the air, a sense of foreboding that something bad was going to happen. Not knowing how bad it could get was making the Slayer restless and this was one of the many reasons why sleep wasn't coming to her. The darkness above her head seemed to be echoing some shadow of what it truly was, and since she was a creature born from the darkness and one that thrived in it, she knew all too well that darkness hardly played by the rules.

At dawn, she opened her eyes when the horns rang and rose, pulling on her armor. She decided to forego the helmet, but the rest of the armor was quite fitting despite the fact it probably had come from some younger person.

Within an hour, they were on the road again. Buffy had forced down a bit of what looked like oatmeal, but she didn't want to hold back these men anymore. There was a sense of urgency in the air, a sense that spread throughout the day. It was as though the darkness was rapidly closing around them, without the faintest trace of an enemy. She supposed that her Slayer senses were both a blessing and a curse in this world, since she hardly thought that the men would understand her intuition, but those not of the realm of Men likely could.

The morning was quite beautiful and Buffy fully appreciated it as they sped along. But by mid-morning, she came to realize that something was terribly wrong. The air was far too warm for February (even for a girl who'd spent her entire life in a state devoid of snow), and there was a great darkness to the east. As the company rode towards Isengard, the darkness continued to spread.

After six hours hard ride, Théoden gave the order to rest, for no horse should have to endure a full day's stride and at night gallop into battle. They rested less than an hour before continuing on. The clouds were gathering behind them, staining the sky dark grey. She knew by the looks in the eyes of the men around her that this wasn't a good sign. For all she knew, it was the seventh sign of the apocalypse.

They finally stopped when the reached the edge of the White Mountains, or so Gandalf said. The horizon was now a deep blood-red color, and blackness was fast spreading over them. In the last light of day, they spied a rider from a great distance. He was following in the last of the column, and soon rode up on his horse to the end. Buffy rose from where she'd been sitting, eyeing this newcomer warily. As he stepped into the light, she saw that his shield was splintered and there were dents in his helmet. He looked exhausted and breathed heavily as other riders started to gather around them.

"Is Éomer here?" he rasped, his hands on his knees as he breathed.

Buffy, ever the lady, quickly offered him her canteen and he took it gratefully, not daring to question why a woman clad in the armor of his country rode with a number of men. She turned to the men she had ridden with and immediately they seemed to understand her question and went off in search of the First Marshal.

Before the Marshal could be summoned, the man started speaking rather quickly. "You have come at last, but are too few. Saruman's forces have been emptied and spill across our land. We were driven back at the fords of Isen; many perished at the crossing. Erkenbrand of Westford has drawn off those men he could gather and rides for Helm's Deep."

Buffy didn't know what he was talking about, but there was something else going on. She knew it, and she turned towards Gandalf. Whatever skills she needed for this task were coming to her, apparently with the gift of perception. She saw the wizard ride closer on Shadowfax before breaking towards the plains, looking mildly troubled.

"Where is Éomer?" the man asked again, this time addressing himself to the woman, who gazed at him intently. "Tell him there is no hope ahead. He must return to Edoras before the wolves of Isengard return."

A horse surged forward and the man looked up, expecting to see Éomer, but the figure on the beast was none other than his King. The man's eyes widened with wonder. "My pardon, lord," he said, gasping again as he fell to his knees, "I did not see…"

"Come, Ceorl," Théoden said as the man stumbled back to his feet. He glanced uncertainly at the woman, but she was staring at the King, a look of enraptured delight on her face. "This company will not part without battle. We will ride to the aid of Erkenbrand."

Buffy left this company then and turned to see Gandalf in the distance. She thanked her advanced sight, because in this gloom and darkness, normal eyes would not have been able to see what she did. Shadowfax was returning now, and Gandalf stopped before his charge and hastily dismounted. He glanced in the darkness at Buffy, who stood there quite alone, blinking up at him.

"I felt it too," she said as he thought of how to explain this new situation to her. "It's coming."

"We must hurry," he said, and he led Shadowfax along in the darkness, Buffy following closely behind, her own steed left behind with the others. Torch lights were the only thing that lit the air, since the stars above seemed to have vanished behind the storm.

"Ride, Théoden," Gandalf said upon arriving in the King's company. "You must ride to Helm's Deep, and you must make haste." He glanced at Buffy, who stepped forward. "I have an errand to run," he told her quietly, his tone urgent. "You will look to my coming at dawn." To the others, he lifted his sword. All stared at him, uncertain of whether or not to accept what this wizard had said was true. "I will leave you in the passing of my company," he continued, and Buffy nodded firmly; she understood what the signs meant. "Shadowfax must bear me on a swift errand."

He turned to Éomer, Aragorn and the other riders. "Keep well, until my return! Farewell!"

Then, with the speed of a bullet, he darted into the darkness.

For a moment, there was no movement. Only silence.

Had Gandalf just left her alone in this group? Damn. Gandalf was known for his wit and wisdom, and she knew she didn't have half of the mind-power he possessed. Turning, she offered a hasty smile to the men as her horse came forward with the rest of the men of the back company. Despite the fact he had just taken off like a shooting star, Buffy knew that standing here waiting to be picked off by an unseen enemy was a very stupid thing to do. Her skills could best be used elsewhere, and since the scouts were complaining about their lack of sight, she made a quick decision and chose to stick with it.

Mounting her horse and rubbing its own armor-clad nose, she spun her horse around in the direction Gandalf had gone.

Buffy rode out to the scouts who rode for the south. "Would you mind if I went with you?" she asked. She could barely see their faces in the dimness of the evening light, or lack thereof.

"Not at all," replied the scout with a nod. If she was the only woman riding through this camp under the grace of Mithrandir, a friend and an ally she was indeed.

Buffy gave him a tense smile, came about, and rode for Théoden. "My… err… lord," she started as the King turned his own steed to face her. "I know that right now I'm in an awkward position considering the one vouching for me just took off. Anyway… I think my skills can best be used elsewhere… but, not here. I'm going to go south with your scouting party, since I can see better than they can."

Théoden nodded, gazing upon this woman, whose face he saw in the reflection of a flickering fire-light. "If Mithrandir has placed his faith in you, so shall I."

"Good, because I wasn't offering it as a choice," she replied, glancing at the entire circle of them. They all appeared drawn, their faces tired and worried as though they were expecting to find something much, much worse than what they had already seen. Knowing that it was finally her time to break away from the comfortable circle of protection and become the Slayer again. Her senses were already on overdrive with the darkness factor; the rest would simply fall into line.

The scouts took the dangerous road to the south. Only the small flickering lights from the highest mountain peaks provided them with any light, but the horses seemed to know their own way.

All night, they rode. It could have been longer, since the black night seemed to grow darker. The scouts she rode with lit small torches and bore them about for only minutes at a time lest they'd be spotted by an enemy archer.

There were cries and blasts from the horns of other scouting parties, but Buffy didn't realize the full extent of their march until she came to a place where refugees who'd been fleeing to Helm's Deep had been cut down by what appeared to be the enemy.

All three of their party halted. Buffy descended from her mare and moved in the darkness to bend down beside the body of a child. An arrow had pierced his neck and her mouth tightened. There were nearly a hundred of them lying in a perfect row, picked off one by one. Tears came to her eyes as she saw babies crushed under the weight of their fleeing mothers, the elderly beheaded. Their faces wore the same look of mingled terror that she'd seen upon her arrival in Edoras. Each body was more sickening than the last and Buffy, who had seen much, was silent as she checked every last one of them over, checking for any sign of life amongst the entire line.

For the first time since she'd arrived in Middle Earth not three weeks before, Buffy began to understand what it was these people were trying to accomplish – what they were sacrificing and what they were fighting for.

"They had no defense," a scout said, arriving at her side, his hand clasping his spear, his eyes full of disgust as he glanced through the line of entangled limbs and the long stream of blood. "It looks to be an ambush of old."

"They were just children," she said, her voice was quiet with underlying anger. Sure, she'd seen things. She'd been the cause of many of them. But seeing dead children cut down like cattle was so mortifying, it took her breath away. Every single demon had a calling card, and children were one of them. But this was not something she expected in a world where electricity and other things didn't exist. She turned so that the scout wouldn't be able to see her face. Brushing back a lock of blonde hair that had fallen from its knot at the back of her head, she bent down over the body of a young woman, who had been pregnant. Her eyes were still open, staring lifelessly at the black night above them. "This must've been one hell of a battle," she growled.

"This is how they take our land," the second scout said, the two horses following his as he walked back over to where the other two of his company stood, checking the last of the encampment. "They have been destroying everything in their path; they bring fire and burn rick, cot and tree."

Buffy rose from the body of an elderly man and gave both men a hard look. Gandalf had said she would understand this world once she'd seen the damage. She had a feeling she'd only begun to see it.

Sending back one of the two, she and the other kept riding southward still. It was only when she heard the sound of voices did she stop.

"Do you hear that?" the scout asked, sounding apprehensive as he reached for a torch, yet her hand came out of the darkness and pushed his hand away.

"I hear them," she said, closing her eyes. There were the frenzied sounds of hoofs pounding the plain, and they were heading in their direction from the southwest. "They're fleeing."

By the time they had caught up with nearly forty men on horseback who rode as though the fires of hell were attacking them, the second scout had returned, looking exhausted.

What he found was Mithrandir's charge talking to men of a broken company, sent out from Helm's Deep to defend the mountain passes. They had been guarding the refugees on their trek south towards the great Hornburg, but had been ambushed by Orc from the mountain hills.

"We come with Théoden King," said the scout who had just arrived once he'd been asked his name.

"What business has a woman with our riders?" one of the young lieutenants asked, eyeing Buffy under the bright fire of his torchlight.

"I'm a scout riding with your King," Buffy said coolly. "I'm riding because I happen to see things in the dark. Where is your leader?"

"He is dead," the lieutenant replied, his horse darting sideways nervously. More sounds were heard. They were cries in a language Buffy had never heard before. "We ride to find Erkenbrand, but he has not been heard from."

This wasn't exactly discomforting, since Buffy had a slight clue that this guy was the one Gandalf had gone to find. Instead, she spoke up. "We ride for Helm's Deep and scout ahead for Théoden and his men."

"We will ride with you to the valley," the lieutenant replied. "But to the mountain hills, we must defend. More of our people come every hour, and many are slaughtered before we can attack. We must do something to protect them, and a Captain we have not found."

She glanced into his weary face, with his defeated eyes and haunted smile. It was his eyes that captured her. They were beguiling, hopeless, defeated. They were the eyes that had seen far too much of war, the eyes of the dead man still walking. These people had no leader. She was a leader. The choice was really that simple. She turned to the scouts, who were watching her fearfully.

"I'm going with them," she said, gesturing to the lieutenant and the rest of his broken men. "They could probably use another weapon. You should probably go back and tell your King."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned back to the company. "You might as well make room, because I'm coming with you." With a grim look on her face, she pulled out her sword and held it into the light. "But we should hurry if you're helping others escape. We don't have much time."

They rode off then, all of them following behind a woman with an Elvish sword and no helm atop her head. As she rode, she pulled out the helmet and plunked it on top of her head, feeling it was rather thoughtful to be safe than sorry.

Both scouts returned to Théoden with the news that Merilin had ridden away with a company of leaderless men who had once served Erkenbrand. At this news, the men all looked at one another: they would never see her alive again.

Éomer was touched by this news most of all; his sister had befriended this woman, no matter what madness drove her to her decisions. He feared for her safety, yet knew that even with her extraordinary faith in her abilities and the capabilities of Rohan, he was never going to see her alive again.

Buffy and the company soon reached the mountain pass. In the distance, Buffy could see many lights coming into the low valley. The company of the King rode to the east; she could no longer see them. They were six hours, maybe less from Helm's Deep, yet they would defend this pass until the end would come.

"Who are you?" the lieutenant asked as this woman dismounted and stood on the ground, a good head shorter than the rest of the men.

She twisted her hand up underneath her helmet and scratched the back of her head. "I told you I'm just a scout. I'm called Merilin and I'm in the service of Mithrandir."

"You are naught but a child!" an older man said as he gazed at her with wonder. "What madness would bring a woman of your age to battle so soon in her time?"

"I've fought my fair share of war," she replied as she turned, staring into the darkness. "I can feel them moving, but I can't see them. Not yet." In her head, an idea was starting to stir. The black night had worn on forever, yet she knew there would be no dawn for Rohan or for any land in this world. It was her job to make sure the sun would shine again, and it would start with these soldiers who gazed at her, both in wonder and pity. They wondered about her power, for she rode with Gandalf, a powerful White Wizard. They also pitied her, since she was the only woman in this world mad enough to stand with thirty men at the top of a valley defending it against the foes rapidly approaching from the north.

They had been waiting for only an hour when she sent a scout towards another band to their west, fleeing before the many lights behind them. The scout was asked to find out whether or not there was a leader with this group, and if there was, he was to return to the pass to defend it. If there wasn't, he was to be told to join with this company to defend the pass despite being leaderless.

As they waited, Buffy decided to ask her questions. "So, Helm's Deep… it's a fortress, right?"

Apparently their stories were quite comparable to the ones she'd had to endure from Gandalf – long, full of prose, and with little point. She tried helping it along by asking more questions and decided against throttling.

She knew she was out of her element, since she didn't know who they'd be fighting, but she was willing to bet it would be bad. Anyone who could cut down such innocent women and children were monsters. Demons, even. This she knew how to fight. The thought of facing the menaces who had brought down an entire party of innocents was fueling her instinct and it brought the fire back into her eyes.

She didn't know much time had gone by when the scout returned with twenty six other men, who were all wearing the same vacant, empty expressions as the soldiers that rode with her.

"Okay, you guys," she said, moving to face them. Only a handful of them were on horseback, and her own mare wasn't appreciating the fact she was stalled out on the edge of some very sharp rock with a rider who was literally out of her mind for choosing to be at this location in the first place. Yet Buffy had a plan, she truly did. "Do any of you have any bows?"

Apparently, they did. She glanced in amazement at the large number of bows and the quivers of arrows now waving before her eyes. Grinning, she took one that had fallen onto the ground, her eyes narrowing. A slight memory of the attack at her high-school graduation came back to her. "This is what we're gonna do," she said, turning back to them. "We'll use these, and we'll be here." She nodded to the bank of rocks stretching above their heads. "If they're trying to kill these people, we'll be waiting to surprise them. They have to come through this pass, and we're not going to let them. We'll line up here, and if they get past this line," here, she drew a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot, "we'll attack with our pointy weapons. Understand?"

"What can you hope to achieve against an army that outnumbers us?" one of them asked.

"That's the beauty of an ambush," she said, her eyes sparkling strangely in the null light as she scampered on top of the rocks, falling easily to the ground behind the precipice. "The element of surprise is in our favor; they probably expected us to be at the Keep by now."

They were staring at her now, not daring to hope that this woman had a clue what she was doing. Maybe she didn't know what they were facing, but how to fight, this she knew. And she knew how to do it well. She saw a few of them exchange a look while trying to debate whether or not to fall in line with her or not.

"I know you're all scared," Buffy said quietly. "I'm scared, too. But if we all do our parts, we'll be the ones left standing. It's going to be hard and we're risking our lives here, but we're going to do it my way. If you have an idea, I'm listening, but talk fast, 'cause we're running out of time."

There were only sixteen horses released into the wild, including her own loyal mare, which she had decided to name 'Faith' for the occasion, as the mare's submissive loyalty was quite existent at the worst of times. Hearing the footfalls of the enemy approaching, the men hurried to get into position.

Gone was the girl who had just watched her city fall from beneath her feet. Gone was the girl who came to reckless decisions based on an instinct that had kept her and her friends alive. Gone was every last trace of the old life she had known. All that remained was the Slayer. And she was ready for whatever came after her.

Buffy kept the bow, since the rider had told her it had come from one of the dead Riders they'd left behind. She paced them evenly along this entrance. There were other cries as they could see riders in the valley fleeing before the force, and certainly enough, wild men bearing axes and torches started storming up their cavern. Buffy held up a hand barely visible in the dark night.

"Wait!" she shouted, as the men tensed, holding their arrows at the ready, their bowstrings taught with the effort. She, too, drew an arrow and held her bow ready. "Go for their heads."

The word was rapidly spread. She could see the large company of men from the King's line moving steadily south in the distance. Hearing the crack of a branch beneath her position, she turned her attention back to the men rising and aiming their arrows downwards. The lights proved to be adequate targets as she shouted out, with a passionate fervor, "Now!"

- - - -

Helm's Deep had never looked so welcome for the company arriving. The two scouts who had been with Merilin now rode up with the King's company, until Gamling, an older man who had held these walls, came down to meet Théoden and bent to his knee.

"It is a great host that comes and follows us hard," Éomer reported as the men started riding up to the Hornburg. "We brought back as many men as we could."

His eyes glanced around the company within the gates. His eyes darkened when he didn't see the woman among them. Or, despite the many women rushing to get down to the caves, he didn't see the one he'd wanted to see. He knew he was worried for her safety.

Théoden saw this too and sighed. "Even though she was with us for a short time, her passing will be sung when this war is over." These were the only words he could speak, as there was a cry. Sixteen horses were led up the ramp, and one that Éomer recognized, for it was the horse he'd first given to the woman. He turned his eyes sharply as the horse stopped next to his own, tossing her magnificent head and swishing her neatly-braided tail. Éowyn had told him she'd spent hours in the stables with this horse, washing and grooming it. The horse had been well-cared for. If only her rider was the same.

"Come," said Háma from Éomer's opposite side, staring at the horse with surprise in his eyes. "We must hasten."

Together, the men rode into the Hornburg to prepare for a battle merely a few hours away.

- - - -

The first four volleys were perfect for a surprise attack. However, their enemies' numbers clearly outnumbered their own. Even during the assault, many fled, but others remained. Then she heard voices shouting: they were calling for reinforcements.

"Damn it," she muttered as she threw the bow aside in disgust. She pulled out her sword and removed the helmet in one motion, since she was really staring to despise it. Other men rose around her and unsheathed their own blades, staring at her for instruction, since so far, her plan had worked for par. She gestured for the other men to carry on down the rock and pursue any that were left behind and they went, carrying their bows and their arrows.

A thunderous sound came, and as the first two volleys were released, Buffy leapt down upon these men, swinging her sword. At this distance, she could see they looked human. They had wild black eyes and broken, discolored teeth. She hesitated as their eyes met, eyes wild with hatred met intense eyes of a Slayer. She knew in that one instant that they would not hesitate to kill her, heritage be damned. She looked at them without the eyes of a human woman, but with the eyes of a Slayer.

With a cry, she threw herself into the hoard of them, slashing and cutting her way through. As she parried glancing blows against her armor, she caught a blow to the face and stumbled backwards. Only a dozen men followed her in. Flaming arrows showered upon them, lighting the path ablaze. As soon as her sword had penetrated the chest of one man, she turned around and kicked the axe from another before dueling with him the same fate. She evaded as many weapons sailing towards her as she could, yet as another fist collided with her face, she saw nothing but brilliant white light for a moment before she unleashed everything upon him: weeks of being cooped up in a land she knew nothing about; her frustrations at being stuck inside a Golden Hall with nothing to do but braid Faith's tail; not to mention the unquenchable thirst she carried as a Slayer to, well, slay.

The only problem was, the soldiers standing with her in this battle were not Slayers, they were just mortal men. She watched as one fell, a blade clearly severing a large portion of his neck. His eyes were wide and empty as they met hers. Another figure cried out as a sword impaled his chest and was beaten upon by a small crowd of the wild-men.

She had lost seven men in the first ram and she turned to the survivors, all bruised yet willing to continue this battle.

"Fall back!" she ordered, her voice echoing in the stone walls. "Fall back!"

Turning she grabbed one of the torches and whipped it at the next round of intruders. At this rate, they would be sparring all night, but this company was never going to reach Helm's Deep, her life be damned if they did.

The third onslaught was larger and more frivolous than the one before. These wild men brought something else with them this time: the Uruk-hai. She'd taken down only one of these things (from her skirmish with the Isengard-bound morons to the north), and they were the Turok-han of the vampire world. With a grace given only by her years of extensive training, she leapt into battle, her sword clashing against that of her enemy. The men in their company, after finding out that this woman could truly fight, came to her defense, laying down the cover fire of flaming arrows. The only problem was, these Uruk-hai were in armor. And they were a hell of a lot taller than she was.

Still, she fought. She kept low, chopping at their knees or else cutting into their armor under their arms where their strength was weakest. She moved her way through the entire line and heard the cries of the others being cut down. They didn't exactly appreciate being picked off by someone smaller than she was, and they fought back, tooth and nail. Snarling, one of them took the young woman by the throat, only realizing a moment later she was no longer within his grasp. He was rewarded with a slash to both knees before he was felled by a blunt axe to the back of his neck.

She heard voices then. Human voices. They were screaming as they ran through the chasm, which was lit. Buffy jumped back as women and children fled into the opening and down the rocks towards Helm's Deep. The enormous strength of their enemy was advancing rapidly to the city. What she didn't expect to see were soldiers also fleeing along the path, witless and terrified.

"Stop!" Buffy shouted. Many men turned on horses as even more thundered past. Most of the men carrying the bows were now checking the bodies of their dead enemy to make sure they were really dead. They were now, after dozens of horses had come and trampled them to death. Some of the riders took a horse though, and they turned to the woman, who, in the company of fifty more men, suddenly appeared even larger than her rather insignificant height.

"The wolves of Isengard approach," said a young captain, glancing at the lieutenant who was pulling his arrows from the bodies of their fallen foes. "Where is your leader?"

Many hands at once pointed to the woman. He turned, perplexed, and stared at her. With the fires burning about them on the ground, she was young in years. Her eyes were very intense though, and held years of experience. Her lip was cut and bleeding, and one of her eyes was starting to bruise, yet her gaze did not avert.

"You are their leader?" he asked doubtfully.

"That's right," she said, giving him a grim smile. "There are wolves, you say?"

"They come through this path, since the enemy lines advance closer. They will overcome the refugees now fleeing from the mountains."

"No, they won't," Buffy said, using the sleeve of one of the wild men to wipe the black blood from her sword-blade. "Because we're going to take them out."

She ran back to the rocks and flew over the edge, grasping her bow. "If your men have archers, get back here. We need you."

One by one, burning torches were laid at the archers' feet, so that they could light arrows when the wolves of Isengard came. The captain of his company said there were at least a hundred, if not more. Buffy said they were ready. They'd lost nine good men in this last fight, including the older man who'd questioned her age earlier. After lining them up and tucking all of their horses, which numbered twice as many as the men in her newly formed company, into the caves on the other side of the Coomb, they stood in wait. The fires had burned low now.

A host of weapons were now at their disposal: Orc shields, axes from the wild men and even a crossbow. Buffy picked up the crossbow and armed it with the quiver of arrows leeched from the Orc's body. "This is what I'm talking about," she said as she fit the arrows into the slots, silently admiring the beauty of what had once been her favorite weapon. Lifting the bow under her chin, she kept her eyes onto the entrance of the path. They had but one shot at this. If they failed, those people were dead. The men of the company said that all had now fled to Helm's Deep. Despite the fact she was facing what could be impossible odds, Buffy was willing to give these people a chance to live.

- - - -

In the distance over their own torches, the men could see the remains of women, children and riders alike fleeing to the Hornburg. The enemy was now sweeping into the valley.

The battle was drawing ever nearer.

And the men began to realize that unless they held the Keep, there would be no hope for men.

- - - - -

In the next chapter, the battle for Helm's Deep begins, book-style. Buffy gains more perspective and gets her fight on.

I was completely aiming for this to be posted on Tuesday until the ISP at home went kaput. With all of the updates this site has been undergoing, it's been quite fun trying to find a spot of time to post this. I chose tonight because of boredom reasons and once I return back to school early next week, I'll have the rest of my stories to help keep me company. Until then, I have both of these lonely files on my disk. Now they are off, and the disk can be used for other things. I hope those of you who celebrate it had a wonderful Thanksgiving! It actually snowed here... I LOVE snow!


	8. Helm's Deep

**Miscellaneous**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is also one that will follow the end of the trilogy (from 'Riders of Rohan' onward) through the end of the 'Return of the King', but will hopefully go in a different direction from there. At most, there will be 20 chapters from the original story, and hopefully another 5 to follow, unless one of us gets ambitious enough to continue on. Otherwise, we will likely leave the story where it already ends. This story follows the path of Rohan through the events of the books.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: The first of the great battles of Buffy's time in Middle-earth is about to be fought as she sees how desperate this world really has become.

Chapter Warning: This is the chapter we have all come to know and love, the Helm's Deep chapter. I have stuck pretty damned close to the book in the case that I didn't want the Elves to show up (even though there is one Elf that is swoon-worthy). Alas, no. The Elves will come into the story at a far later time.

- - - - -

**Chapter 8**

**Helm's Deep**

_By Katrina Claire_

- - - - -

The Deeping Wall was a grand wall, twenty feet high and currently being paced about by Éomer, who was gazing out at the blank fields below.

The enemy was still hours away, but it was nearing midnight. There were still no stars or moon above to give them any hope that this black night was over. Nor was there any word on the fate of over one hundred soldiers unaccounted for. The last that the scouts now riding back out had heard was that they had gone to the path on the eastern side, where rocks rose above the bank and a path would lead the others to safety. There was no doubt that the riders had been ambushed there.

They had their own borders to look after. The women and children had been hastened down to the caves. Théoden had called both Aragorn and Éomer forward and had explained his plan on how to defend the Keep.

Little did they know that the defense of Helm's Deep was already underway, in a small passage where the rocks overrode the banks, where the wolves of Isengard had come to pass.

- - - -

There were only ten of these riders that entered. At first sight, Buffy couldn't understand why these men had called the creatures wolves. They looked more like hairy little half-dinosaurs to her. They snarled and spat and pawed at the ground, occasionally sinking their heads down only to return moments later with flesh in their toothy mouths. They were obviously carnivorous and craved blood, much like the vampires did. Although they were quite a bit different in size and ferocity, Buffy knew how to fight vampires, and these things that looked more like something from a live-action Disney flick.

Orcs rode upon their backs, holding torches and making careful steps up the rocky ford. From the looks on their faces, Buffy figured they thought the entire cavern was clear and that the bodies under their feet were the bodies of the dead Rohirrim. Revolted, Buffy held her crossbow in hand, and saw many other archers bending down to light their arrows aflame.

She waited until the entire path was filled with Orcs before she shouted, once again, "Now!"

If ever there was a day in hell she could have lived, it was this. There was instant chaos as over a hundred flaming arrows shot into Orc and beast alike. After the second volley was released, half of the men, Buffy included with a triumphant, "Charge!" burst down upon them, beating them into the walls.

She had chosen one of the battle axes for this assault, as she had taken it to look very much like the scythe she had used in her final battle with the First. She fought every last foe with the same strength she had used to fight off hundred of Turok-han. Her axe flew gracefully in the air, as did many other axes and swords. Flaming arrows were showering down upon them once again. She took her axe and knocked one of the Orc from his position before neatly cleaving off the head of the offensive wolf, which revealed a malodorous stench that made her stomach whirl. Spinning about, she jammed the blunt edge of the axe into the Orc spluttering at her feet. As it died, its eyes met hers. The message was loud and clear: We stop for nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young lieutenant being knocked into the rocky wall. As the wolf settled in its final attack on its prey, a figure leapt before it with a snarl. The woman stood above him, her sword and the axe flying with practiced use. The wolf was soon knocked aside and the Orc was taken down by an arrow shot above her head. Buffy glanced up to see the captain of the departing company give a firm nod.

She returned it, mouthing 'thanks' before she returned to the fight.

It didn't last as long as they thought it would. The point was that most of the enemy had now crossed the Coomb and no longer needed the use of the small hidden path through the mountains. They wouldn't be able to reach the Keep alive if they held this position much longer, and it was likely that the enemy would soon send stronger numbers through this hold. They would soon scout their location, since it was pretty obvious that some sort of massacre had happened when they realized their rearguard hadn't shown up as expected.

They had done all they could, and that was to ensure fifty people get to safety. She turned back to the men, who stared at her in somewhat grudging respect. Their first skirmish had gone quite well, despite the fact they had been led by a woman they knew nothing about and one they believed had no previous experience in such matters. She had proved them wrong in the space of an hour, or just under.

She threw the sword aside. A grim smile appeared on her face as she addressed them once more. "Get to Helm's Deep," she commanded, her voice echoing loudly. "Stay to the hills… just make sure you get there alive. You're needed there more." She turned and glanced at the path they had held for hours now.

The horses were brought out and one was brought to her. Buffy had been walking with only two others among the pile of carcasses, making sure they were all truly dead. It was then she spied something in the hands of an Orc. Bending down, she picked it up. It was a horn, and with it was the printing of a great horse set in green. Her jaw set, Buffy turned to the two men standing there. One of them was the injured lieutenant, who looked upon her as though he would look upon his Marshal.

"Here," she said, marching forward and handing it to him. "Follow those men and take this. See that it goes to the King."

"Are you not coming?" he asked her as he gathered his things. He watched her do the same. Firelight flickered across her face.

"I will," she said at last. This word was good enough for him, and he turned his horse and fled down the pass. Gathering what weapons she could, she walked to a brown horse which snorted and pranced over the bodies it stood on. Buffy touched his armored nose and sighed, resting her face against his deep mane. Now that she had sent back the remaining Rohirrim, it was now pretty clear she wasn't going to just ride back. If there had been one thing life had taught her, it was to take nothing for granted.

Now that she was covered from head to toe in weaponry, she rose, jamming the helmet back on her head. Grasping her battle axe in her left hand, she rode out with her right. Instead of heading due south towards Helm's Deep, she rode east, a sole rider darting across the plain.

When the riders who had gone into this skirmish with her saw that she was riding away from the Keep, many exchanged a look before turning their horses back. They saw her torch burning across the sky, and soon the plain was filled with a hundred torches, all burning brightly as the archers set up on horseback, lifting their bows expertly.

The young lieutenant blew into the horn, and a distant sound rang out into the Hornburg.

Buffy rode back and glared at the young man blowing into his horn, but he wouldn't look at her as he set the instrument back at his belt before lifting his own bow. "What are you doing? Get out of here!"

"You led us and it is not the time we abandon those who lead well," he replied, steadying his horse next to her. "We may not know who you are, but you have defeated our foes and for this… we could not abandon thee."

Buffy just rolled her eyes as she made ready her own arrow.

"My lord, look!" a voice cried. The three men in counsel ran along the Deeping Wall and saw a long line of men stretching across the valley.

Buffy hesitated for only a moment before raising her own bow. "Fire!" she cried out.

At once, hundreds of fiery arrows pierced the darkness, followed by a second shower, and soon a third. After the first few lines had fallen, she spun around. "Fall back!" she screamed. "Fall back!"

As one long line, the horses started falling back, out of the range of the arrows shot by the front lines of the incoming force. Once they had come to a safe distance, she turned again, as did all of the others. They did this twice more until they realized it would be better off to head up the ramp and through the gates than waste more arrows and precious time fighting off an incoming force the size of the population of Texas. Lowering her bow, she shouted, "To the Keep! Go! To the Keep!"

The horses all turned and started up the ramp, thundering into the Hornburg. Once the last one was inside, the gates were sealed. Buffy leapt off of her horse, throwing her bow over her shoulder where it rested with her shield. She carried the axe in one hand and the crossbow in the other.

The horses were quickly stowed away, and the men were dispersed to their new locations. The young lieutenant hesitated for but a moment before handing Buffy the horn. "This belongs with you. Without you, we never would have scored such a victory against a much larger enemy."

Buffy grasped the horn and the man's hand before he was sent away. She turned and saw the rear guards already barring the gate. After hanging the horn from her belt, she turned and headed up the stairs, hopeful to find Théoden.

Pulling off her helmet, she shook out her long hair and sighed, dropping it onto the ground, along with her entire score of weaponry. She longed nothing more than to just sleep for the next hundred years, but she knew that this battle was going to happen tonight, whether she liked it or not. She lifted the axe and carried it in her hand as she walked along the wall.

She didn't expect to see the Elf and the Dwarf staring at her as she approached.

"Have you seen the King?" she asked casually.

"We thought you dead," Legolas said, staring at her appearance. She was bleeding from the lip, and her eye continued to blacken. "Your mare returned with no rider."

Buffy gave an impatient snort and strode by both of them. If they were going to treat her like some ghost, they weren't worth her time.

It was in the Keep that she found the King. She burst through the doors with such energy that all three men turned to look at her in surprise.

"Where do you want me?" she asked, twirling the axe in her hands.

Not one of them spoke. Buffy sighed and gripped her axe tightly as she turned back. "Okay, I'll just go find a spot and get cozy."

She found a spot near Legolas and Gimli on the Deeping Wall. With her came an escort of riders who had followed her into the side-battle. They carried her weapons and then discarded them at her feet.

"Thanks," she said, pushing her hair over her shoulder. "Once again, you've proved why you need supervision. Now get back to your posts. Go!"

Éomer stepped past the others who cast him a somewhat fearful look before returning to the Hornburg gate. His eyes were on the young woman who seemed to walk out of her grave before their very eyes. She was counting the arrows in her quiver, grinning.

It was then she noticed boots and glanced up. The quiver fell from her hands, spilling arrows onto the ground. "Oh," she said darkly, turning away from him. "It's you."

"You should not have done that," he said, glaring at her even in the piercing darkness.

"If I hadn't, many of those men would have died," she replied, gazing at him coolly. "Not to mention the fifty-some women and children they were trying to seriously kill."

He watched her jaw tighten as she turned back and gazed at the top of the wall with an angry sigh. "Could you at least find me a better spot?"

Once Buffy had selected a better location, one where she could actually see, which was nothing more than a box placed under her feet, she stood with her bow in hand, listening to the horns and chants of the Orcs and the rest of their allies far below. From what she could tell, there were thousands of them, and maybe a thousand men to defend this little cave in the wall. Didn't these people realize how royally screwed they were? But they weren't. Not yet.

In the lingering silence, she saw Gimli bouncing up and down, trying to see over the top of the wall. Excusing herself from the guards standing between them, she kicked her own box over and dumped her weaponry unceremoniously on the ground. "Care to share my box, Gimli?"

He turned to her and blinked. And then he cackled.

"Give me a year and a hundred kin and I would see this wall built for no enemy to break," he said to Legolas, standing on the other side, looking as passively neutral as ever, yet he was amused by the box this Dagnir and the Dwarf now stood upon.

"I do not doubt it," he said, gazing into the distance. "But I would give for a hundred archers of Mirkwood. The Rohirrim have archers, but there are too few."

"And you, Merilin," Gimli said, glancing at the woman bouncing impatiently next to him. "Would you have a hundred of your people come to fight?"

Buffy's look was of vicious delight as she looked upon the spears of her enemy. "These guys would be dust," she said savagely. There was an unlikely sparkle in her eye as she imagined Faith, Kennedy, Vi, Rona and many of the other Slayers fighting here. Oh, she'd give anything for a hundred Slayers. Hell, she'd pay their airfare through time and everything. But the one thing she wanted more than anything was that this wretched darkness would disappear and the sun would come out.

"Would they be archers?" Legolas asked her. She turned to him and grinned.

"They'd be whatever you'd want," she replied truthfully. At this, the Elf turned his impassive face to the fires below and she laughed.

"Are they all of your height?" Gimli asked, eyeing the fact that this woman was not even a half-head taller than he.

"Some are shorter," Buffy admitted.

"Are you certain you are not a Dwarf?" Gimli demanded. "Our women have fought in the wars of the past."

Buffy was laughing again. "Oh, my dear Gimli," she said, brushing the tears from her eyes. "They don't have beards."

"A shame," Gimli sighed, knocking the end of his axe into the box they were standing on. He glared at the night and then said, his voice more troubled, "It is the time for sleep, and yet I am restless."

"I know how you feel," Buffy replied, stifling a yawn. "I thrive in the darkness."

Aragorn and Éomer passed behind them then, and Buffy worked to keep a straight face as she gently passed her hand over the arch of her bow.

Lightning flashed in the distance, along with the slow rumble of thunder. The heavy air around them was finally giving way to a great storm. Buffy watched this and gripped her bow even tighter. These morons thought they could bring a storm. Just wait until they found out that a thousand good men awaited them, along with a Slayer who wasn't afraid of letting loose.

The advancing lines of the enemy were moving fast now, as they could see them approaching from the flickering forks of lightning over their heads. In one instance, there were archers raising their bows to take aim at those along the Deeping Wall. Not one of them had been told to do anything, so they watched as the arrows flew into the wall before them, occasionally picking off a mark. Buffy managed to jump from her box to avoid one arrow and evaded another as it sailed cleanly between her helm and the helm of the Dwarf standing next to her.

All at once, it seemed, everything started happening. Rain started to unleash, drenching all upon the wall. The enemy had fired their first shots, and then fell back. They kept doing this, as though expecting retribution for these continued assaults. A streak of men were advancing up the ramp, and as others leapt aside, they wielded large tree trunks and began to ram the gates.

Quietly, Buffy and the other archers readied their bows. An arrow sat in their opposite hand as they waited for the chance to start fighting back. The archers were close enough now to carefully select targets, and Buffy was hoping she wouldn't have to make the call to start firing before they did.

Then, with a sudden rush of sound, arrows flew through the air, mixed with the sound of the heavy rain falling into the valley. The Orc archers retreated, but halted soon after, and turned as both sides exchanged another stream of arrows.

Aragorn and Éomer were looking to the gates and ran with their own men to secure the causeway. Buffy stood her ground next to Gimli and Legolas, and it wasn't until she reached for her fifth arrow did she realize that Gimli had darted away.

As the gates burst open and Orcs flowed inside, Aragorn and Éomer raised their swords, made their battle cries, and launched into the fleet of men surging inward.

Buffy stood her ground on top of the Deeping Wall. They unleashed torment upon the archers and Orcs below, but she soon began to realize that this was an excellent tactic for the enemy: let those inside their fortress use all of their weaponry so that they had nothing to use when the real battle came. Buffy tossed her bow aside and turned to Legolas, who continued to issue the orders to fire. Down below at the ramp she saw two swords flashing in the lightning. She whipped her wet hair out of her eyes and glanced up as a blast of thunder shook the ground.

It was going to be a long night.

The rain started relenting just then. Buffy turned back to see how small the droplets of water were getting. Lifting her damp head, she jumped from her box and ran along the wall only to meet Gimli, chuckling and hastily rushing towards his post, grunting, "That did away my longing for sleep!" he said to her as he passed her by.

Buffy sighed, glancing at the archers rapidly running out of things to fire. She glanced at the doorway, where the sounds of fighting were still present. Making up her mind, she turned back to the others and joined Gimli on the box.

"A fair decision," he told her as she lifted her bow again.

"At least now I know we won't get bored," she said grimly as she lifted her stuffed quiver of arrows.

"There is always the chance we could lift you to a bowstring and fire you down to face them," one of the Rohirric soldiers said dryly.

"I feel loved already," Buffy snorted as she picked through her mismatched arrows. The archers kept firing, although their arrows were disappearing faster than they cut down their enemies. Another problem was arising as well: Orcs in tight clusters were running to the base of the wall and firing ropes with grappling hooks on the ends. Hundreds of these were shot at the wall, and all of those defending the wall stepped forward to cut them down. Buffy used her axe, appreciating the power of the little weapon. The Orcs and wild-men swarmed beneath them like a herd of angry cattle as ladders were raised upon the ropes.

"This isn't good," she muttered, chopping yet another hook and watching as the ladder collapsed back down before the Orcs climbing it could reach the top. The only problem was, there were hundreds of ladders, and as one was cut down, two replaced it. They would never get all of them cut before the Orcs scaled the wall.

The sky above them was clearing, as the moon had suddenly appeared behind parted black clouds. The lightning was drifting off towards the west, and the winds were blowing briskly from the north.

The Orcs broke through near the center of the line. Buffy abandoned her box and leapt forward, her axe clashing against swords. She felt Gimli behind her, rapping his own axe against his foes. The defense of the wall had been divided. As hundreds of Orcs appeared, half of the men (and one woman) were working on expelling these foul creatures, while the others tried to prevent others from coming.

The assault on the wall was doubled now. While many on top of the wall had their hands full, more Orcs below had pulled out the grate leading into the Deep. Orcs now ran through, unchecked and unchallenged.

"Damn it!" Buffy cried over the sounds of metallic clinking. She raced to the opposite wall and stared down at the figures fighting below; they would need help.

Aragorn and Éomer had returned to the Wall and were fighting to expel the few Orcs remaining. Most of the ropes had been cut, and many of the Orcs were piled at their feet. The outcome of this burst was staggering; many of the men looked exhausted and were grey-faced, leaning on swords that had been notched and shields that had been bruised by the onslaught. Buffy was among them, although she refused to admit it. She swung her axe about, ignoring the fact it was probably getting dull from slamming into the body armor of the Uruk-hai.

Down below, the guards on horseback were fighting those that had gone through the culvert and into the Deep.

"The Orcs are behind the wall!" Gimli shouted as he reared his axe and charged downwards. Buffy made to follow him until she saw that more grappling hooks were flying through the air, along with another assault of arrows as the last of the archers fired their last arrows into the abyss.

There was a call to arms belong, sounded with a mighty "Forth Helmingas!" as Gambling led the men of the Westfold forward to parry off the Orcs slipping through the drain. Buffy turned and focused her attention back on the ropes and rushed forward, seizing the bow at the foot of the box. Lifting her quiver, she started pulling arrows at random and passed the quiver along. When it returned to her, she saw Legolas had two arrows left and looked quite desolate about this fact.

"Take them," Buffy said, pushing the quiver into his chest. "In my world, you take what you can get."

He stared down at the various assortments of arrows her quiver held: poisonous Orc arrows, arrows from the wild-men, and enough arrows recovered from her minor skirmish. He pulled out a small handful and slipped them into his own and returned her case. As the next ladders started rising, the archers were ready.

Buffy grinned as she continued to fire arrows into the ropes. Watching those ladders fall was almost a joy to behold, considering all these morons wanted to do was kill them all.

But the Orcs broke through again, and Buffy found herself taking her axe and fighting off just one Uruk-hai before the blade bent and the weapon was rendered useless. Groaning, she pulled out her sword to continue the assault, while Legolas and the rest of the archers abandoned the defenses and continued to hack their way through the man enemies now flying over the wall, their weapons raised, and their breath coming in short, bated snarls.

Aragorn and Éomer were among these men, their infamous swords flashing in the night. The darkness was starting to ebb away now, and Buffy figured dawn couldn't be more than two hours away.

Far below, Gimli and the rest of the men of the Westfold were filling in the culvert was as much debris as they could find. Once the artery had been sealed off, he claimed his axe and returned to his position on the Wall, proudly boasting "Twenty-one!"

Legolas pushed the last Orc aside from his position and hacked the rope from the wall. "Good!" he said, his face inexpressive as always. "But my count is now two dozen. It has been knife-work up here!"

Buffy glared at the last man she had cut down before reaching and taking his own axe. She lifted her head, her intense eyes glaring in the pre-dawn light. It was then she saw something that made her heart stop beating.

More ropes were swinging through the air, and if that wasn't bad enough, she saw torches in a long line below. She cried out, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the trumpets blaring from below. Something bad was coming… it felt as though she were in hell all over again.

There was a resounding crash before a deafening boom. Buffy screamed as the ground beneath her feet exploded outwards, her bow flying from her hand and the axe spinning wildly through the air. After what seemed like forever, she landed hard in the water below, rescued by her hard-core armor. For a moment, she couldn't breathe as she saw figures rushing in against the rain-swollen creek.

This was it. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She was going to die stuck in this pond, just like the first time…

It was then she heard a resounding roar in her ears and saw a stout little figure land before her, swinging his axe expertly. As he diverted the Uruk-hai now rushing in, she stumbled to her feet, now drenched in rain-water, river-water and her own sweat and tears. Grasping the sword that had thankfully landed ten feet away from her, she jumped back into battle, standing side-by-side with the Dwarf.

"I owe you my life," she said to him.

Aragorn was leading the men of the Westfold in the charge as they fought against those in the breach. The only problem was, the Uruk-hai were quickly killing everything on the Deeping Wall. She pointed this out to the Dwarf, who lowered his axe, and they both ran up the rocky stairs, kicking and sparring their way until they reached the top. Buffy resumed her position of attacking anything with a weapon raised at her, and Gimli chose to stay beneath, darting and paring.

"We have to get to the other side!" she shouted, as she noticed that on this end, most of the enemy was dead. The Uruk-hai wanted that door, and it was across the breach. With a cry that would have made any Slayer proud, she ran and leapt into the air, landing on both feet a good five away from the edge of the breach. The Dwarf lumbered after her, but stood on the opposite side.

"I cannot make it," he said, gazing at the breach below, with many black-clad figures still pouring in.

Buffy didn't have time to make this decision. The Uruk-hai, now attacking what defense remained on top of the wall, now turned to her. She had no choice. She turned regretfully back to Gimli. "Get down there," she shouted. "I'll see you there."

He lifted his axe in a silent salute and was gone in the flash of his shiny armor. Turning, Buffy took on an entire company of the enemy by her lonesome. She wondered if Legolas had gotten away all right, since he'd been standing so near to her when the explosion had sounded. Éomer was also not present, and she worried for him, too. There were bodies beneath her feet, Rohirric bodies.

There were too many for her to face on her own. But she had to do something. She spied something underneath a bit of rubble, an axe. Lifting both weapons into her hand, she spun and twirled, taking out as many as she could as she worked her way to the wall facing the Deep. Below there was a cry to retreat to the Keep, and she knew she would never make it. The gate below fell open with a thud as the battering rams moved inside.

Hope was waning fast, she thought as she finally reached the edge and climbed carefully onto the rock. The defense of the wall had fallen, as many of those who'd been defending it were now dead on top of it. Casting a last, sorrowful glance around, she jumped off of the Wall and landed, some fifteen feet below, in another sea of black-clad bodies.

Aragorn had reached the Hornburg and found, to his dismay, that neither Éomer or Gimli were present.

"Things go ill, my friend," Aragorn said as he paused, breathing heavily against the door.

"Ill enough, but not yet hopeless," Legolas replied, clasping the shoulder of one of his oldest and dearest friends. "Was Gimli with you?"

"He has not made it back," Aragorn said, casting a wary eye on the door beyond, where King Théoden stood, waiting to hear news of this battle. "But fear not, for he is stout and fearless."

"I just wish I could have told him my count is at thirty-nine."

"You will have this chance," Aragorn replied, hurrying away. At the steps of the citadel, he met with one of the riders, who answered his question as to where Éomer and Gimli were.

"I saw Éomer gathering men and fighting at the mouth of the Deep," he said. "Gamling was with him; and the Dwarf, but I could not come to them."

Aragorn nodded and strode to the inner court, where the King stood, staring out a small window into the vale. The sky was starting to turn from black to the palest shade of navy blue, as the sun continued to rise.

In the mouth of the Deep, Éomer stood is ground, calling all that were left to charge the large amount of Uruk-hai now streaming into the Deep.

Buffy was among them, once she'd found Gimli alive. She almost cried with relief; she had thought she'd seen the last of him. Lifting both weapons into her hands now, she charged the assault. They were taking out far more than the Uruk-hai were taking of them. Buffy turned and lacerated her way through them, too small almost for them to gaze upon, since she was a good head shorter than most. Behind them came the wild-men, and she decided to face them head on. They were much easier to take on one-on-one than the Uruk-Hai, and she gladly did just that.

Éomer was beyond words as he continued to fight, his own sword slashing and hacking its way through the many enemies standing between them and the breach. They were starting to fall back though, since more of his men were falling than could hold off the torrent now pouring in.

What he didn't expect to hear was one of the horns blowing ahead of him. On top of a rock, a woman stood, blowing into a cracked horn. Tossing the broken device aside, she leapt back into battle, and with her went many. Éomer recognized many as the rearguard of the Westfold, who had followed her into the battle before that of Helm's Deep. He lifted his own sword and shouted his own rally, and soon both forces were attacking the main flank of Uruk-hai head-on. This appeared to work as long as they could keep pushing the enemy back towards the breach.

They had no idea that far above them, hundreds of Uruk-hai were now streaming into the Hornburg.

Aragorn stared at the back of the King for a silent moment.

"What is the news, Aragorn?" Théoden asked.

"The Deeping Wall is taken and all of the defense has been swept away," Aragorn replied.

"Is Éomer here?" the King inquired.

"No, lord. Many of your men have retreated to the Deep, and one has spoken that Éomer was among them."

Théoden was silent for almost a moment as he thought. "It has been said that the Hornburg has never fallen to an assault," he said quietly. "Had I known that the strength of Isengard was so great, I would not have taken Gandalf's counsel, for now it seems unwise to have listened." He sighed as he stared as the first traces of pink lit the sky before him. "Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the west. Behind the hills, into shadow. How did it come to this?"

"Do not judge the counsel of Gandalf, for this battle is not over," Aragorn said quickly, taking in the look of defeat in the older man's eyes.

"The end will not be long," Théoden replied, turning away from the window at last. "Yet I will gather what strength we have and ride. When dawn comes, I will bid my men sound the horn of Helm, and I will ride forth. Will you ride with me, Aragorn?"

"I will ride with you," Aragorn replied firmly.

He then took his leave and returned to the outer wall, far higher than that of the destroyed Deeping Wall. Legolas went with him, and they both fought when the assaults came from the grappling hooks and the ladders. Uruk-hai were now weakening the gate into the tower.

At long last, a thin line of white appeared on the horizon. He stepped forward and walked to the part of the wall over the gates, ignoring the whizzing of arrows as they flew past him, clattering harmlessly on the rock behind him. He held up his hands in the token of parley, knowing he was buying Théoden time to get his horses prepared. As the Uruk-hai jeered at him and began demanding the King make his own entrance, the rest of the attacking force had been driven at last from the Deep.

Water splashed up as a small company of Rohirrim were led to the mouth of the breach. Over a thousand Orc were between them and the Hornburg, and they were completely cut off. Buffy was trying her best to stay ahead of them, to reach the stairs. She knew the Deeping Wall was overrun, but there was still the broken half. Some of her men were wounded, two of them quite seriously. The stairs were only a couple of dozen foes away. They could keep running them down. Sure. She was chosen to be an army of one, but these men were hardly older than boys, some of them, and some could pass as her grandfather. To keep hurling them into the arms of their growing enemy would be asking them for a quick, painful death, and that was something Buffy wasn't willing to give them.

Éomer was behind her, fighting off the main assault. More trumpets blared as another surge swept in. Buffy was forced to abandon the idea of the stairs after another ten minutes of fighting off these newest assailants. "Get the men up to the top of the wall!" she shouted to the lieutenant, who nodded and climbed up the haphazard debris to make his way towards the unchecked part that still remained of the Deeping Wall. Turning, she noticed that sunrise had come at last, but even in this dim light, there wasn't any more than there had been three hours before when they had been left in total darkness.

Buffy and what remained of her men fell back to Éomer, who was still fighting the incoming attack. Buffy did her best to cut a line through the Orcs, but she knew she didn't have enough men. They were all clogged together in one large group, hurling onwards, and cutting down everything in their path.

Just when their hope became bleakest did a deep horn sound. The ground trembled. The Uruk-hai seemed to forget they were in battle and froze, their weapons suspended in mid-air. Their claws came up as their weapons and shields dropped, cowering, their armor lifted to be pressed over their ears.

There was a great cry of "Forth Eorlingas!" before Buffy turned and smiled. A bright beam of the fresh morning light fell across her face as, morale renewed, she leapt back into battle, fighting with a fervor these foes had not yet seen. Éomer led his own charge, as more than a hundred good men took on more than a thousand in the Deep.

As the horses charged out of the ruined gates, they clamored down the causeway, the Uruk-hai run down. The horn sounded loudly above them once again, and many of the Orcs and wild-men turned to flee with fear in their eyes.

Aragorn rode at the right hand of the King, fighting his way down. Legolas rode behind him, his knife flashing through the air.

They reached the bottom just as the sound of a magnificent neigh came from far above. Heads turned to see a snowy white horse on top of the hill.

"Mithrandir," Legolas said under his breath, his eyes full of wonder.

And with him were thousands of men, some on horseback, some on foot.

"Erkenbrand!" the men called out, lifting their swords as they saw one man step forward, his red shield raised in the light. "It is Erkenbrand!"

At the last sound of the horn of Helm, Gandalf led the charge downwards, as Théoden and his men attacked from the ramp, and those driven into the Deep began to retreat outwards.

Gandalf reached the valley just as sunlight exploded from the mountain tops, bathing the valley and the remains of the Keep in its warm, beautiful light.

At the mouth of the valley, near the crossing of the Coomb, the dry ground had been turned into a forest. The Uruk-hai dropped their weapons and backed away, now facing defeat at the hand of a Wizard, a King, and more than three thousand good fighting men.

Inside the Deep, Buffy dropped her axe and fell to her knees, her hands reaching for her face. Her sword lay on the ground beside her, and when she looked up, she saw the sky above her, a brilliant shade of milky blue with soft wisps of white.

A bloodied hand reached out towards her. She glanced up with an exhausted face to see the lieutenant smiling down at her. "This battle is over. The Uruk-hai are retreating."

Buffy took his hand as he helped her to her feet. There was a deafening roar as the Rohirrim cheered their victory on. Buffy walked through the drainage and paused, sniffling. Éomer was helping a wounded Dwarf to his feet. Buffy rushed to him.

"You're hurt," she said, gently helping the Dwarf remove the helmet. Part of an Orc-blade had been jammed through the ridged top, and his head was bleeding. Before he could protest, she threw her arms around him, hugging him. This obviously wasn't the type of thing a Dwarf normally did, yet he let her cling to him for a moment before she pulled back, her face shining with exertion.

The men slowly made their way from the breach and into the brilliant sunlight. Buffy felt cold and shaken, as though her night had been spent fighting off Glory, the Master, Adam and the Mayor in one fell swoop. Throw in a bit of fun from the First, and this had been a Buffy-battle. She'd never taken on that many vampires without some superhuman support.

The retreating forces of Isengard sped through the valley and into the newfound forest, where after the sound of wailings and moaning, not one of the foes returned on the other side.

The lieutenant stayed at Buffy's side, her sword in his hand. His other hand held another treasure of hers, and he returned it to her. It was her faithful bow. Before he realized what he had said, she threw her arms around him and hugged him, too.

Gandalf rode forward and saw his young charge following Éomer from the Dike. Her long hair had been tied back from her face, which wore the scars of one who had faced a battle. Her one eye had been blackened, and there was a deep gash on one side of her face, the scar from when the explosion of the Wall had sent her into the Deeping stream.

When she saw Mithrandir, she strode up to him, and he saw in essence that his decision to ask for her allegiance had not been unwarranted. Théoden saw her, too, and his eyes widened before a grand smile broke across his face.

"You have but nine lives," he said, sounding astonished to see that the one woman in their camp was still standing on her own two feet.

"You must see what she does with her sword," said the lieutenant, ever faithful, standing behind the woman he had claimed to be his captain. Others who had ridden into battle with her saw her as walking-wounded, yet came to her nonetheless. The sunlight appeared to be giving her strength.

"She has fought well," said Éomer, giving the woman a rare smile of respect. She nodded at this and smiled back at him.

On the other side of Mithrandir, Legolas and Gimli were comparing their numbers again.

"Forty-two," Gimli said proudly, his hand pressed over his wound to stem the flow of blood.

"You have passed my score by one," Legolas said, his eyes shining in the light. "This I will forgive, as I am happy to see you on your legs."

"Hail, Éomer!" Théoden said, riding to his sister-son and gazing down upon him. "I see that you are safe indeed."

"Hail, Lord of the Mark!" Éomer replied, staring at the forest before them and then turning to Gandalf. "Once more you have come in our hour of need."

"I said that I would return and meet you here," Gandalf replied with his own smile. "And yet I had never left." His eyes strayed to the damp blonde standing next to Shadowfax, her hand resting on the horse's muzzle, her gaze full of exhaustion.

"We have somewhere else to be, don't we?" Buffy asked, gazing at Gandalf. He saw in her eyes the same fear he felt in his own body and nodded slowly.

As one, the men of the land gazed at the trees, and even Gandalf was kept in the wonder and way by which they had arrived.

"Théoden-King, our task has not yet passed," Gandalf said at last. "Will you ride with me to Isengard?"

"But there are not enough men in the Mark to assault the stronghold of Saruman!" the King said, glancing at his wearied men. Few they may be, he decided, yet without courage they were not.

Yet there was that single figure that stepped forward. The woman, though injured and exhausted, her face lined with fatigue, laid the bow upon the ground and said, "I'll go with you to Isengard."

The men stared at her; this woman had already wasted but five of her nine lives. Could she truly spare one more?

Gandalf was beaming at her, knowing that this woman was stronger than many had given her credit for. "I thought you might."

- - - -

In the next chapter, a journey to Isengard begins.


	9. The Road Not Taken

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings. And the hint of a non-book relationship appears in this chapter, as well.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Thank You's: I do owe many of you great thanks for taking the time to read this story. The amount of positive feedback is enlightening. I am also apologizing for the lateness of this piece. You have no idea how many times this chapter was written, rewritten and reedited to have everything make the sort of sense it finally did. I was not pleased with it, but I think it gets the point across.

Chapter Summary: The host rides to Isengard; Buffy gets yet another history lesson.

Chapter Warning: This is a chapter that is a pure mix of the imagination of myself and of Tolkien. I had to stay true to the books when it came to the journey to Isengard, and I threw in a lesson about the coming of the Ents in for good measure, which comes from The Silmarillion. On a side note, it's safe to say that the spouse of Aulë was not the only one to create a species in their image. Yavanna wanted trees that could think for themselves and speak for all of the great things she created. Hence, the Ents were made. It is a beautiful story and one I decided to incorporate into this piece.

- - - - -

**Chapter 9**

**The Road Not Taken**

_By Alyson Kay_

- - - - -

"Let all men who are to ride with me rest now. We will journey under the shadow of evening. We will ride to parley, and not to fight."

These were the words of Mithrandir. Théoden had taken this counsel to heart and had summoned all that could ride to return to Edoras for a council in a few days time. He then chose twenty men, including Éomer, who were uninjured and could ride. When his gaze fell upon the young woman, however, he need not have taken one look at her determined face to realize that even though she was hurt, she was going with them whether he accepted this or not.

She rode with the White Wizard, after all.

"Get some rest," he told her as she turned to help the injured inside. "We will not ride without you."

She gave him a grim smile before turning back to care for the Dwarf. Once they were inside, Aragorn took Gimli from her care and she undid her armor and left nothing but her dress underneath. She sighed when she saw the tattered hemlines. She was still quite wet and very cold. Taking a bar of her best Elvish soap, she ducked out of the citadel and turned in the direction of the caves. Inside, the women and children were being told by those Théoden had sent about the battle. Bypassing these people, she found a quiet spring where rainwater warmed by the sunlight poured down, and bathed quickly. Once she had dried off and redressed with the gift of clothing from one of the provision-carriers, Buffy returned to the room and fell asleep upon a cot.

Those who were uninjured swept through the remains of the Keep and through the valley, checking for survivors. Not one Uruk-hai had survived. Éomer strode with them, not needing rest. It was here that he head about the rearguard's first battle with the woman leading them. They had lost very few under her leadership and for this he respected her. She was a leader of her people, Mithrandir had told them this. She knew what she was doing.

He was among those that returned to wake up the King and check on the rest of the injured. He found Legolas and Aragorn tending to the Dwarf, who was grumbling about Elvish medicine and poking aside the arm Legolas kept extending to assist Aragorn with the bandaging. Éomer bowed his head to their fellowship before his eyes turned to the figure lying on a cot across the room. She was on her back, sound asleep. A thin blanket covered her, and he could see that even though she'd been hurt, she was healing rapidly.

"I did not understand it myself," Aragorn said as he joined Éomer's side. "She carries in her blood advanced healing powers. Already her wounds have healed."

"She is fatigued," Éomer said quietly. "Why must she ride to Isengard? We have no need of her counsel; she should return to Edoras."

"Will you be the one to inform her?" Legolas asked as he came to stand on the other side of Aragorn. "I will not be the one to speak. I have heard tales of the men that were with her in battle."

"As have I," Éomer said with resignation in his face. "I do not suppose we could leave her rest while the rest of us prepare our departure."

"We will," Aragorn said, walking over and drawing the blanket up under her chin. "She has already fought in one of our battles and there are many more to come. Sleep will be an essential need for her, and one not all of us will be privileged to find."

Long after the rest of the men left the room, Gimli drifted off into a sleep of his own. Men passed back and forth outside the room, occasionally glancing within to check up on the two.

The men of Dunland had given themselves up out of fear following the Uruk's retreat into the sudden forest in the valley. Gandalf stepped down and told them that they should lie down their arms and then set to work. At this, the wild-men exchanged an amazed look, as the tales of violent torture and mayhem that had been passed down through the generations wasn't apparently true. They looked kindly upon this mercy, and set to work on moving the debris.

The men who had fallen in this battle were soon buried near the mountains. Théoden and Éomer came together and mourned the loss of one of the captains, Háma. Théoden cast the first stone upon his grave, his face weary with sorrow, yet as solid as a mask of stone. He had seen much in this battle, and the death of one of his faithful wouldn't break him. They found the bodies that had skinned and strung as banners before the Keep during the height of the battle. They were buried with highest honors, in a line of graves that seemed endless to the eye.

After the burials, the horses were prepared. Buffy was shaken awake by one of the guards, and she dressed quickly in her armor, which had dried somewhat in the hours she had been resting. She pulled her hair back again and replaced her belt. One of the axes of the Uruk-hai had been delivered to her bedside, along with the cracked remains of the horn from the passage. She lifted it into her hands. It was a meaningful thing, really. Even though it was broken, it wouldn't fall apart. She wasn't going to let it. Carefully binding it, she slipped it onto her belt and burst from the room.

As the sun dipped below the mountains, the company of Théoden and Gandalf rode out, heading north and west to Isengard, leaving the remains of Helm's Deep behind. Those that were to remain behind watched the group take leave, their eyes watchful and their demeanor silent.

Buffy had been amazed when her dark grey mare was presented to her by the young lieutenant, who she found out wouldn't be riding with them. He was a guard for the Westfold and would be returning to Edoras with Erkenbrand. It was then that she met this captain, and they grasped hands.

"It's good to meet a man of legend," she said with a grin as she was helped onto her horse.

"We will meet again, Merilin," the lieutenant said, as she rode off to join the others, looking refreshed and renewed.

All at once, they halted, seemingly unwilling to go through the trees. Buffy wasn't really nervous; they reminded her of the trees of Fangorn forest, and when she asked Gandalf this, he confirmed it. These were the young trees that had come. Buffy asked where they had come from, but all Gandalf could say was that some higher power summoned them there, more than likely their shepherds.

In lines, they crossed into the wood. Legolas rode directly in front of Buffy, and he stopped whenever Gimli would allow it to listen to the sounds of the trees above them.

She rode up along side him, her ponytail bouncing over her shoulder as she gazed at the last rays of sunlight filtering through the high branches. "This is the prettiest thing I have ever seen," she commented.

"The lady speaks not after my own heart," Gimli said stoutly, his eyes nervous as the trees continued to tilt and moan above them. "I can guess their thought already, and it is hatred for all that move on two legs."

"Not all that go on two legs," Legolas replied. "It is the Orcs they hate. For they do not belong here and know little of the lives of Elves and Men."

"So they're not going to try and bash us," Buffy commented as she kept looking around, apparently aggravated. "It's always good to know."

She rode forward, leaving Gimli and Legolas behind as their conversation turned to caves. She rode around Aragorn and finally met with Gandalf who rode directly behind the King.

"You have rested well, Merilin," Gandalf said kindly to her.

"I think that's the best sleep I've had since I got here," Buffy replied, stretching on her horse slightly. And, with a frown, she stared at it. "Mithrandir, is there a name in Elvish-speak for 'faith'? I want to name my horse, yet the name 'Faith' doesn't really fit here. I was hoping there'd be a cooler word like Shadowfax or… whatever you call horses nowadays." She gave the mare a little nudge and the horse lifted her head. "What shall I call you?" she murmured, running her hand along the horse's mane.

"The word is bronwe," Gandalf informed her.

Buffy's lips twisted, as though she were trying not to laugh. "Do you have a suggestion then? There is no way in hell I'm naming my horse Bronwe. It doesn't really suit her."

"How does the name of Sador strike your liking?" Gandalf replied as they continued through the trees. "It was the name of a faithful servant in ancient times. The name means 'faithful one'."

"I like that," Buffy replied, patting her horse's neatly braided mane. "How do you like that? Can I call you Sador?"

The horse tossed her beautiful head and neighed softly.

"I think you have found your answer," Gandalf replied, glancing at the young woman with amusement in his eyes. "I have heard the most beguiling tale of your heroism before the fall of the Deep," he said slowly.

"What did you hear?" she asked curiously, gazing at him. The darkness was growing around them as the sun went down, and Buffy was half-afraid she'd endure another black night.

"You took charge of two broken companies of men," Gandalf said, gazing at her more intently now. "You have done what no man asked of you, yet you assumed responsibility that was not your own."

"I couldn't leave them there to die," she said, looking reluctantly at him.

"You have done more than bring yourself the respect I have known you would bring," Gandalf said in his serious voice. "You have gained the trust of men. Before this battle, they saw you as a mystery, one who rode with a White Wizard who returned from death. You may have come from death, but you brought with you life."

"I think I took your words to heart," she said, frowning as she contemplated his words. "I'm beginning to live again, and I don't like what I see. I saw dead women and children. It scared me. I realized I wasn't about to let that happen anymore. Those soldiers were told to defend the pass. I helped them do it."

"Were those not riders of the West who followed you into battle then and into your last?" Gandalf asked her. "You have been humbled by these actions, yet your actions fool not one of these men. They know now you carry a great power. They have seen it."

"I'm only what I am, Gandalf," she said, glancing down. "I'm just a Slayer. I did my job back there."

"It has become more than a simple matter of occupation," Gandalf replied. "It has become your soul, your very breath of life."

Even in the best of times, the old man sounded like Giles, she thought wryly.

"I thought I was gonna die," Buffy said finally, turning back to face her guide. "I really did. I didn't want that to happen. I'm not ready to die just yet. These men are fighting for their freedom, for their lives. To me, that means more than just wandering around a world I don't know fighting what I don't understand. I'll every Orc if I have to. Everyone has a right to breathe free air." She inhaled the cool, nightly mist and sighed deeply. "Even the best of us have to appreciate the small things."

"It is this courage these men place their faith in you," Gandalf replied. "They will ask nothing more except for your courage, except maybe perhaps your leadership."

She let him ride onward to make counsel with Théoden and fell back. The men of Rohan were now riding around her, and some stopped to make idle conversation. Instead of regarding her warily, they saw her as one of them. The funny thing was, she was starting to see herself as one of them, too. She was a woman, after all. She was a woman surrounded by intimidating men that preferred to scowl rather than smile. Yet, she was surrounded by people who would die for their cause. Hadn't she, Buffy, proven that before, three times?

She grasped the reigns of Sador and continued moving on into the evening, the other riders passing by with curt nods or small words. She didn't have much to say to them, considering her focus was on keeping Sador to ride steadily through the trees, something the mare wasn't always willing to do.

Éomer was at the rear of the King's guard and was soon riding up besides her, giving her a look of encouragement, but Buffy was far too taken with the trees moaning and swaying over her head to pay him much attention until he spoke. "If you do not gather speed, you will be left behind."

She turned to him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "You would leave a girl behind to fend for herself?" she asked, her tone slightly hurt. "So much for chivalry in the ancient world," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"You need no protection," Éomer replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he stared at her face, small strips of light adorning it as they passed under the shelter of the trees swaying overhead. "I have heard the tales the men have spoken of you and your willingness for battle."

"My… my willingness for battle?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing threateningly. "There's one thing to go around looking for a war to jump into, and there's another thing about being dumped in a world where war already exists. There's something about me you have to know, and it's that I'm ready to face anything the great Nasty can throw at me. I've been trained well."

"Perhaps," he said, as though he wasn't too convinced. "They have said you fought in wars before this one."

"War is such a strange word to me," Buffy replied. "See, where I came from, there was a never-ending war. I fought a battle every night. Every single night my neck was on the line so don't you go talking to me about weak women and their inabilities to cope with death, because I've seen a hell of a lot more than you think."

"I would expect nothing less than one who rides with the White Wizard," Éomer said, hurrying to catch up with her brisker pace.

"You're not one to believe things so easily, are you Éomer?" she asked, turning back to face him.

"I have seen you fight," he admitted. "You would make a fitting captain for any guard. Of you, I would believe nothing less than the truth set before my eyes. But this is the third time that you have acted in a manner I have yet to see." He frowned slightly as he recalled the tales of the rearguard. He had seen her fighting, if only for a little while. She had been standing in the Deep, moving as though the very fire of the Underworld was at her heels, her blonde hair flying as she sparred and ducked, sparred and ducked. He had watched her direct the group of men that had rallied to the sound of her horn and they had listened to her orders, for they knew she would not put them in harm's way if she could help it. There were movements with a sword many had never seen before, not to mention the fact that she moved as they had never seen a woman move before. There was talk of ancient women fighting with the armies of their husbands and still this woman was above them all.

After watching her fight and hearing of her tale, it led many to wonder why she hadn't been brought to this world before. Had she been in his numbers then, they would have succeeded in overthrowing the will of Saruman before the dark Wizard had ever taken hold of his country. She was an amazing woman, as proud of her own race as he was of his, and this led to their many conflicts and arguments in the two weeks they had known each other. There had been an uneasy truce since the departure from Edoras, and it was springing now into an alliance of sorts, a friendship. Well, if one could still be friends with someone and despise them at the same time.

There were times that he could look at her and see how truly beautiful she was, for there was no tale that could describe how she appeared before them. There were no equal tales that could describe her power or her valor. Watching her fight, he had seen her heart. She lived to serve the will of the powers of fighting. She belonged in that world. Her allegiance was against those who sought to supplant the goodness in the world.

She was both a leader and a follower, for she had taken high command of the Rohirrim during a time when they had no efficient leader. She had also learned to follow behind the white steed of a grumpy old man who bore a Wizard's staff and brought ill news to all. She was the sunshine behind his rainy cloud of doom and the more he watched her movements and heard her voice, the more he began to believe that she was made for this world. They needed her as a part of it.

She caught him staring and frowned slightly before reaching up a hand and twisting her ponytail nervously around her fingers. "You could do a little less of that you know," she said, glowering slightly.

He hid his amusement as he turned back to his own horse.

"It's not like I'm something on the display rack," she continued, her eyes sharp as she turned to him. "I'm not something pretty to just stare at."

"Perhaps not," he said, keeping his eyes away from hers. "There is still a great beauty to you. Many would be blind to not notice."

Her eyes softened slightly as she took in his compliment before smiling as she cast her eyes down. "I guess chivalry isn't dead," she said, chuckling. "That's always good to know."

"It would make a fair point to see that you are indeed not a man," he pointed out, this time unable to keep the amusement from his eyes.

She smirked at him, looking less angry than he'd thought she'd be. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, her smirk growing. "Nah, too easy," she finally countered, shaking her head. And then, turning back to him, she added, "With all that long hair, I bet you get a lot of the same gender jokes."

"Yet it is the men who go to war," he said, adopting his grumpy tone.

"And the women stay home, push out babies and live miserably ever after?" she asked, a hard edge to her tone. "I'm not the sit-by-the-hearth-and-knit kind of girl, Éomer," she snapped.

"This is what alone sets you apart," Éomer said, trying to soothe her irritation, since she had a habit of attacking those that angered her. "You are nothing of the norm."

"When this war is over, if it ever ends, I won't be the one to stay at home and do nothing. If you take the fight away from this girl, you don't have much left," Buffy added, pausing slightly to stare up at the trees moving above her. "It's like these trees… they have a purpose and with their purpose comes their destiny. I still have mine, even though my own world is what, thousands of years in the future?"

"Like these trees, you strike like a serpent when goaded," Éomer reminded her.

She just grinned at him. "It's the true B—err, Merilin style," she said triumphantly, turning her attention back to her riding and goading Sador to move ahead. Éomer watched her as she went, filled with silent puzzlement. She was an enigma, she was. He knew she wasn't going anywhere, which meant they had potentially days of conversation ahead of them. Considering how close her temper was to the surface, he knew that provoking her would be the death of him, and made up his mind to avoid that at all costs.

- - - -

The sun was just starting to set when they reached the edge of the trees. The sky before them was stained a deep blood-red. As the party rode out from under the wood, Legolas gave a loud cry and turned to ride back into the forest.

"There are eyes!" he said. "Eyes looking out from the wood!"

Buffy had seen many things in her life, but a watchful forest was exactly the cure to being careful what you wished for. The others, surprised by his cry, attempted to turn back and follow him.

"No," Gandalf said sternly, halting their advances. "Do not go back into the wood. It is not your time."

Even as he spoke, three shapes emitted themselves from the trees. They were very tall, at least twelve feet high, and were as tree-like as could be, with long limbs and beards the greenish-grey color of moss. They had solemn eyes and gazed to the north, and when the Riders stared, the figures lifted their long hands and bellowed, their call as clear as any horn. Their calls were answered, and the Riders turned at the sound behind them as more came forward.

"These are not the enemy but herdsmen," Gandalf said quietly to the group, still too enraptured to withdraw their gaze. "They are not concerned with us at all."

Indeed, they weren't.

"What are they?" Buffy asked in a voice of awe.

"They are the shepherds of the trees, the Ents," Gandalf told her. He saw her expression clear, as she'd met Treebeard and knew of the Ents.

"I thought I had lived to see strange days," Théoden said, glancing as the large creatures started striding (which was probably the best word for it, since not even a herd of rampaging wolves could have caught up with them) to the north. "Out of the shadows of legend I begin to understand the marvel of these trees, as they were called in children's songs. And now the songs have come down among us out of these strange places."

"This brings good fortune," Gandalf said, watching as the Ents departed. "You are not without allies, even if you know them not."

"It is not always good fortune," Théoden replied, a shadow of darkness crossing his face. "The more that will go to war are those that will pass away nameless forever and pass without song or tale." At this, he looked at the Dagnir, who sat proudly on Sador, her eyes glistening as she stared out into the valley with wonder on her fair features. "Too many are far too young to see such days pass away."

"This evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured," Gandalf replied, following the King's gaze. "Not idly will this Dagnir pass into the darkness without a fight at her helm. She has come and gone too frequently for such things to bar her passage." He nudged Shadowfax and started trotting away. "Come! Let us go now on the journey we have already begun!"

The company turned away from the Coomb and turned north towards the Fords.

Buffy rode towards the end of the column, staring back at the magnificent Ents moving rapidly through the clearing. "It must've been a great power to create them," she said softly.

"They were not created from this world," a voice said at her elbow. Buffy turned to see Aragorn riding beside her, studying her face.

"I expected you to be up there," she said, gesturing towards the King and Gandalf, riding further in the distance.

"I share your curiosity for the wonders of those beings," Aragorn said.

"In other words, you wanted to provoke the lady," Buffy said, her voice grumpy. "First Éomer and now you."

"I would not want to provoke a lady who can turn her sword to remove—"

"So," she said loudly, her voice hearty and overly cheerful. "What about those Ents, huh?"

"Have you heard of the Valar?" he asked. She nodded. "There were many who had great gifts to bear to Arda. One was called Yavanna. She spent much time in Middle-earth, attempting to heal the hurts left behind from Melkor. He was one of the Valar who returned to Arda to corrupt and besiege it. Many would call her the Queen of the Earth. She dedicated much time and her energy to create the trees and the plants. All of this beauty was created from her mind."

Buffy glanced at the dead grass the horses were trotting upon. "It's sort of like the story of creation with a twist," she commented.

Aragorn glanced at the ground and gave a thin smile. "This land was once beautiful and green before the darkness came to bear it to darkness." There was a great bitterness in his voice, and Buffy stared at him, strangely moved.

"I'm sure when all of this is over, it'll grow back. It always does in the end."

"Yavanna knew this," Aragorn continued, returning to his story. "She created protectors for all of her things, for she knew that those that would come upon the world would hold the dominion of all she had created. She made the Ents to protect the trees, only during the scars of years past, they have dwindled such in numbers that they retreated to the old forest of Fangorn. She had much pride in her trees."

Buffy listened to him as they continued to move, the sounds of the Ents moving off to the west.

"Yavanna decreed to Aulë, her spouse who had created the race of Dwarves, that his creations would not hold dominion over hers. They would instead turn their attention to the earth itself. That was how the Dwarves came to be miners. Manwë, the highest of the Valar, heard her thoughts that she wanted to protect her creations and from the songs they sung in times of the elder. He came from a vision and spoke that the Children, the first of the Elves and Men to walk in Arda, were to walk among the animals and plants, among her creations. Her shepherds could live among the forests and live at peace. He also brought forth the Eagles to send for the aid of the Valar should the need arise.

"There were many Eagles in times of old, through the times of Gondolin and the history of the Elves from times long ago." He turned to regard her then. She was staring at him with a hint of awe in her eyes. "Listen to me ramble," he said, excusing his speech with a sharp cough.

"No," she said softly, moving Sador closer to him. "It's just that when you talk like that… it lives through you. I can actually feel as though I were back at the time of Yolanda—"

"Yavanna," he corrected mildly.

"Right," she said, nodding hard. "Right, Yavanna… it makes it seem so real to know that these were created for a purpose. Just like me," she added with mock enthusiasm, glancing around them.

"If one of the Valar could have created you, it would have been Aulë, the creator of the Dwarves. He had great talent for such workmanship, and you certainly know the skill and craft of weaponry."

"The only weapon I could ever make was a stake," she said with a dramatic sigh. "Still, it's something."

Aragorn said a quick farewell before moving ahead. Buffy continued to move along, lost in thought.

Darkness came quickly and a waxing moon glittered overhead. As they came to the crest of a hill, they all looked down and saw with some wariness that it was a desolate, tarnished land.

"A river ran through here," Legolas said to no one in particular; Gimli was peering around the Elf's back and staring at the road before them with a look of mingled disgust on his face. Buffy felt her breath fall away. Everything in this plain was twisted and dead, and what remained of the river that had once been there was nothing more than a dried rock bed with warped gnarls of tree stumps and other gear cast away.

"This has become a dreary place," Éomer said, his voice full of a deep heaviness. Buffy gazed at the back of his head, her eyes full of sympathy. "Has Saruman destroyed the springs of Isen?"

"So it would seem," Gandalf replied.

"That's horrible," Buffy murmured beneath her breath. She didn't care if any of the others had heard her. She was voicing her opinions. This was mere hours after going into battle and fighting things much larger than she was.

"Must we pass this way?" Théoden asked.

"Yes," Gandalf replied. "There is no threat to the Riders here; the carrion-fowl peck at Orcs; such as their friendship remains."

One by one, the horses trotted down the plain. The wolves that had been howling slunk into the distance, their eyes reflecting the sight of Gandalf passing, looking as though he were made from spun-silver with his cloak and Shadowfax.

They came before a great ring of stones, with standing mounds and a circle of spears.

"Here lie all the men from the Mark that fell near this place," Gandalf said quietly as the others rode up behind him. Buffy lowered her eyes again, lost in a moment of burying a Potential in her backyard. When she glanced up again, the Shadow was gone.

"Here they will rest," Éomer replied, pounding his own spear at the ground. "Long will they defend the Fords of Isen."

"Is this not your work also, Gandalf, my friend?" Théoden asked. "You accomplished much in one night."

This Buffy noticed too, and smiled. He obviously knew how to multitask.

"With the help of Shadowfax, and others," Gandalf replied. "Not as many as were rumored fell in the Fords. I gathered the men of the broken companies and sent some with Grimbold to Helm's Deep and still others helped me with this," he said, gesturing at the mound before them, "and others still rode with your Marshal Elfhelm to Edoras. I have seen to it that Meduseld will remain when you return and not meet its downfall from thieves and plunderers of Isengard."

"I shall look forward to returning home," Théoden replied, casting a longing glance towards the southwest. With a heavy sigh, he rode on, and the others followed.

They continued on until the King announced he was weary. They broke camp along the depressing river and Buffy found herself staring into the murky mud lining the bottom of it. How strange was it that she should help someone who was in the same position she had been just months before (or was it thousands of years, now)?

In the distance, there were great puffs of smoke rising. They'd been seeing these columns since they'd departed the forest. She stared at them and sighed, resting her chin on her knees. She really wasn't tired. She could sleep, certainly, but she'd slept for hours that morning. Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself, she continued to stare at the Isen, lost in troubling thoughts.

Buffy was just drifting off into an uneasy sleep when a sharp cry awoke everyone in the camp. Her eyes snapping open, she leapt to her feet, her cloak falling away. There was an eerie blackness rolling towards them. Her eyes widened as she turned to Gandalf, as she always did when she didn't understand something. This, apparently, he didn't understand either.

"Stay where you are! Wait and it will pass us by!"

Buffy didn't move, not even to recover her cloak. The mist closed around them, whispering in the darkness. Her senses could pick it up, and she was willing to bet that the Elf's and Gandalf's were also quite keen to this murmuring. A loud groaning wail broke from above them as the ground started to quake. Buffy, whose senses were now on overdrive, was particularly not fond of earthquakes since they were more or less a death omen to her. It seemed like a year before the darkness passed. Buffy lowered her eyes and saw the rest of the camp was looking relieved that the darkness had spread to the mountains. It was as though all of the darkness had been expelled from Rohan and was being forced to dwell in the mountains.

She was trembling again. She bent down and wrapped her cloak tightly around her to ward off the chill that kept sliding up and down her backbone. As fires started lining their small camp, Buffy sat outside the camp on her rock; staring at the river, willing her heartbeat to return to normal.

No one else was going to sleep tonight. This much she knew. She had never felt less like sleeping than ever before. Surely whatever awaited them tomorrow had to be better than this. It was comforting to know that just twenty-four hours before (assuming that time in Middle-Earth worked the same way as time in regular-Earth did) she'd been killing Orcs.

She smiled grimly at the memory. Oh, killing those buggers was fun.

- - - -

In the next chapter, Buffy finally gets to meet her first two Hobbits and talk to the trees.

Until next time…


	10. A Tale of Two Hobbits

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: Buffy meets two creatures smaller than she is… not to mention she gets to talk to trees.

Chapter Warning: This is a chapter that is a mix between my own imagination, the film and the book. I have read the book far too many times to not use what you will read ahead. As for the film, it just draws the images for me.

- - - - -

**Chapter 10**

**A Tale of Two Hobbits**

_By Alyson Kay_

- - - - -

When dawn came, it was less pleasant than the beautiful dawn they had seen yesterday. It was very foggy and Buffy couldn't see her hand (or, in any case, a Rider, horse or pack) until she was stumbling over it.

Night had brought with it one final surprise; the river had suddenly come to life. In the middle of the night, Buffy had been staring dully into nothing when a great roar came and she'd gasped and scrambled up the banks, much to the amusement of the men, who gazed at her fondly; a sort of entertainment in such a dark hour.

Bending down, she washed her arms and face in the cold waters and smiled at her foggy reflection. She had healed from her battle wounds for the most part, except that her cheek was still cut and she touched it with a damp finger. It would heal in time, she decided as she rose. The best part was, she still looked good despite the fact she'd just been through a major battle less than twenty four hours before.

The riders set out slowly. Buffy rode with Gandalf at the front of the column, taking in the bleary sights around them. While the river had returned and gurgled happily as ever, the scenes before them opened another depressing encore. Twisted shards of what had once been part of the forest now rested in what Gandalf had called a pretty section of the Fords.

Buffy scoffed at this and stared at the desolate scene, trying desperately not to sigh. Oh, well. She could imagine it a pretty sight, but face the darkness and gloom as the others that rode behind were.

Gandalf quietly explained their surroundings in a fashion only Gandalf could do. "This was once a stunning arena for Saruman, and there were at one time orchards and many green things. In the latter years of the Wizard, all has fallen ill, as you can see."

She saw every depressing inch of it. "I see it," she muttered, staring distractedly at the twisted ruins of what had once been the edge of the forest. "Looks like one of those zoning projects from where I come from."

"There are houses along there," Gandalf continued, pointing at the walls. "There dwelled all of the workers, servants, warriors and slaves. There are tunnels in the mountains, and many run under the Ring of Isengard. There Saruman has kept his treasures and his mill."

Buffy could see this, sort of. There was an underground mine, maybe. By mill, she automatically assumed a paper one, yet why would a dark Wizard have need for that? She turned and asked him, "What was the mill for?"

"To create and breed his own army," Gandalf replied in his heavy tone. "There he put forth the flames of industry, cutting down the forest to serve his own self-seeking desires. He created weapons. You know them. You fought them. Of his army, he bred goblins and the Orc to create the Uruk-hai, which you have also fought."

"Yeah," Buffy replied. "You don't forget them easily."

"And in the mists, in the center of the Circle, where all the roads lead, is one tower, Orthanc. A peak and isle of rock it was, this citadel. Yet it carries two meanings, for in Elvish-speech, it is known as 'Mount Fang' and in the language in the Mark of old, the 'cunning mind'."

Buffy saw the base of the tower in the distance through all of the thick fog, yet her eyes had fallen on a pillar standing before them. It was a white hand. Éomer and Éowyn had both spoken of this white hand. The hand no longer appeared to be white, but red, as though stained with blood. Shivering slightly, Buffy followed Gandalf past the pillar.

They were riding through water now, their horses splashing through what appeared to be a flood. The water filled the hollows and trickled down the stones.

Gandalf paused then, and Buffy drew Sador to a halt. He was beckoning them forward now, as most of the faces staring back at them were apprehensive, especially those of the Riders. Buffy offered them a small smile, one which not one of them returned. Beyond the mists a pale sun shone, and it had finally come to noon. Buffy was eagerly willing to trot forward to the gates, but Gandalf held her back. As one party, they approached, and found something else they didn't expect.

The doors were lying hurled and broken on the ground. And all about, stone was cracked and splintered into countless, scattered shards. Large piles were heaped ruinously. The great arch over the doorway still stood, but it looked as though the walls and towers around it had been ripped and beaten. It looked as though some great storm had blown through and swept everything aside.

The ring beyond was filled with water, in which there floated a wreckage of beams, spars and other broken gear. Splintered towers reared leaning stems above the flood, but the road around them was underwater. Far off in the distance, the only island amidst all of the flooding was the tower, dark and tall, a haven above the disastrous waste laid in the waters below.

The King and all of his company sat silent on their horses, staring at the waste around them in wonder, perceiving that the power of Saruman had been at last overthrown. Now they turned their eyes towards the archway and the broken gates. There they saw, among other bits of debris, plates, bottles and bowls. There were two figures lying on top of a stack of broken rock, one was soundly asleep and the other was on his back, resting, blowing small circles of bright blue smoke towards the misty sky.

For a moment, not one of them moved. But Buffy swore she saw Gandalf's beard twitch with silent mirth. The figure blowing through his pipe suddenly became aware of those staring at him and leapt to his feet, tottering precariously on the rubble he stood on. He didn't seem to see any of his friends, but saw King Théoden and Éomer instead. To them, he spoke.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he said, making a grand gesture to the ruin that lay beyond his arm. "We are the door-wardens! Meriadoc is my name, and this is Peregrin of the house of Took."

"What?" Buffy laughed in disbelief. This short figure was bobbing on the rocks and talking with a pipe sticking out of his mouth. She couldn't help but laugh; the guy reminded her of Dawn, of all people! Even though, she reminded herself with a wrinkling of her nose, Dawn didn't smoke a pipe. Or smoke anything else, for that matter.

"The Lord Saruman is within," Meriadoc continued cheerfully. "He is unavailable at the moment or doubtless he would be here to welcome such guests!"

"Doubtless he would!" Gandalf laughed. "And is it on Saruman's orders that you guard his damaged doors?"

"No, my lord!" said Meriadoc in that same grand, gusto tone. "Our orders come from Treebeard, who has taken over the management of Isengard! He commanded us to welcome the Lord of Rohan with fitting words. I have done my best."

"You rascals!" Gimli spluttered behind Legolas, looking downright outraged. "A fine hunt you've led us on! Two hundred leagues we've traveled to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and idling and… smoking? Smoking! Where did you come by the weed? Ai, I am so torn between rage and joy that if I do not burst it will be a marvel!"

"You speak for me, as well, Gimli," Legolas replied, also laughing. "Though I would rather sooner learn how they came by the wine."

"There's wine?" Buffy asked from behind Gandalf in her undertone.

"There is one thing you have not found in your hunting, and that's brighter wits," said Peregrin, opening one eye. "You have found us sitting on a field of victory and enjoying a few well-earned comforts."

"Well-earned?" Gilmi scoffed. "I cannot believe that!"

The King laughed, and with him the Riders. Buffy was so torn between awe and amazement that she just let her mouth dangle open a few moments before closing it, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"So, these are the lost ones of your company, Gandalf?" Théoden inquired, gazing at both Meriadoc and Peregrin now, as they continued to puff on their pipes and gaze earnestly at the strangers.

"Hobbits, if you please," Peregrin replied, bowing again.

This led to an explanation of what Hobbits were and why no one had any clear stories from them. Buffy found herself even more confused than by Galadriel's tale of events. These were Merry and Pippin quite obviously.

"You do not know your danger, Théoden," Gandalf interrupted them gently. "These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and discuss such things in great detail if you encourage them with patience. Some other time will be fit for this. Merry, where is Treebeard?"

"Treebeard went away on the north side, I believe," Merry replied. "Ents are with him, still busy at their work." He pointed to a spot in the distance, and even there they could hear a distant rumbling and rattling.

"It is past noon," said Gandalf, "and we have not eaten since early morning. Yet I wish to see Treebeard as soon as I may. Did he leave me no message?"

"He left a message," Merry replied, "but I was distracted by the other questions. I was coming to it. I was to say that if the Lord of the Mark and Gandalf will ride to the northern wall, they will find Treebeard there and he will welcome them."

"Well, Théoden, will you ride with me to find Treebeard?" Gandalf asked, turning his head to gaze at the King. "We must go around, but it is not far."

"I will come with you," said Théoden.

"I may add that you will find food of the best there," Pippin replied with another bow, teetering on his own stack of rubble. "It was discovered and selected by your humble servants!"

"Great," Buffy muttered under her breath. She had finally caught the attention of both Hobbits and they gazed at her questioningly, until Gandalf called her forward.

"Let us go and meet with Treebeard, as you have seen him once before, fifteen nights hence," Gandalf said quietly to her, as Théoden was talking to the hobbits.

"May we meet again in my house," Théoden said to them. "There you shall sit beside me and tell me all the tales your hearts desire. Until we merry meet, farewell!"

Gandalf and the King's company rode away then, but Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli chose to remain behind. The others set off across the gates and towards the north, taking the long route outside the walls. They could all see the holes that had been punched through and the tunnels that had once been beneath them were little more than streaming rivers of black filth and debris.

When they reached the northern wall at last, they rode through a gap that had been broken through and arrived at last before the tallest of the walking trees, the one she had seen before. There were many others, slowly pulling apart the towers and the wall of rock.

"Hi," Buffy said with a nervous chuckle as she rode up on Gandalf's left side. Théoden rode up to the King's right. The rest of the men, Éomer included, gathered behind them in a semi-circle.

"Gandalf the White!" Treebeard called in his slow, deep voice. "You have brought with you the Lord of Rohan and… bless my bark… the Slayer has returned!" As he said this, many pairs of eyes turned to look at her, wondering how this great Ent knew of this woman who'd just happened to fall in league with them a mere week before.

Buffy gave him a brief half-smile, but noticed his yellow eyes were on the battle axe she held readily in her hand. Quickly clearing her throat, she placed the axe out of sight.

"We have come a long way, Treebeard, and these men are hungry. We will sit and rest while we discuss what we must."

Buffy secretly liked Gandalf's plan, and soon there were twenty-two horses set out beyond the far wall to scrounge for grass that had to exist somewhere. Treebeard led them to a small shack, which had once been a storeroom for Saruman's private armaments. Beautiful axes and shields hung from the walls and Buffy let out a moan of longing as she reached out to grasp one shining arrow…

"Touch not," Gandalf said, pushing her hand aside. "They will bring you poison and death far faster than an Orc-blade would carry."

Sniffling a little bit at being deceived by such pretty things, Buffy set her hand aside with a sigh. Once inside a larger room, they saw a table that sat under the pale sunlight laden with dishes and platters. Buffy sat down and grasped her plate hungrily, gazing from bowl to bowl.

Once everyone had dished themselves up, the Ents towered in the circle of light above them, the conversation became light and hearty. Buffy hadn't had this much fun eating around a large group of men ever and found herself enjoying the company of the King, who spoke to her often and asked her questions of her life at home.

"What is the land like where you come from?" He asked, lifting a goblet of water to his lips.

"Oh," Buffy said, waving her fork impatiently, "it was very… brown. I lived in a sort of desert-like area where it was always sunny, it never rained, and the air was so full of chemicals that it was dangerous to breathe it. You know, it was home!"

"What sort of work did women do?" another one of the men asked, openly curious. "I hardly imagine they were allowed to grasp weaponry and fight in battles of men."

"I think this sort of warfare went dead with the invention of the tank," Buffy replied truthfully. "About a million years from now, you're finally going to look down from wherever you go after you die and smile at the fact that you're no longer defending a fort from an evil band of thugs. You're hurling bombs at them… it's a lot more fire and a lot less personal."

"War in your time must be terrible," the man replied sympathetically.

"It was," Buffy admitted. "Hundreds of thousands of people died because they were fighting for something they believed in. I always thought war was stupid and pointless and people only go to war because they want to die. I think that now after being here and being through your battle… things change for the better, you know? Where I come from, there are great powers that have a lot of weapons and technology to do a lot of damage, even destroy the world and nothing has the power to stop it, except more bombs, more weapons and more technology. There's something worth fighting for here, and it isn't just a lack of human-induced pollution."

She glanced down at her hands to see the small cuts and scrapes that remained from her fight the day before. "I fight because I was chosen to. You fight because you have to. It really isn't all that different." She paused. "As for what women do in my world, they can do exactly what men do. They can go to war, they can wrestle and play professional sports, although I certainly wouldn't recommend some of them… hell, they can even run and hold political offices. History has evolved, trust me. We're no longer the sit-by-the-hearth-and-knit-tea-cozies kind of women anymore. We're enlightened and we know how to hold our own."

She felt a shadow pass her eyes and glanced up to see the Ents staring curiously down at her.

"Oh, and we know how to take care of our trees and plants," she assured them. "Even with all of the smog and stuff, we have gardens and conservatories and everything."

The King glanced at her, his brow furrowing. "I wonder what will become of this world, if it will ever evolve to the point where peace exists and there is no more war and no more despair."

"I wish I could tell you," Buffy said honestly. "I wish I could say that everyone lives happily ever after and when people go to war, they come home unscathed and unchanged. I'm not going to lie to you. Who knows what's going to happen? The Elves have this gift of foresight, which is both a blessing and a curse."

"The Valar who created Arda do not even know what is to come," Gandalf agreed. "What we have now is to decide what to do with the time given to us. We do not have much of it left, considering this great war is about to begin, and the allies of men lie scattered."

"The old alliances are dead," Théoden said darkly. "We are not so lucky in our alliances as you have been."

"You know what?" Buffy asked, glancing up from where she was pushing a bit of ham around on her plate. "Does it really matter if you fight alone? Does it really matter you face such great odds? I have been fighting alone since the beginning and I can tell you that even alone you can do a lot of damage. So when you say you have no alliances, look around you. These men are loyal to you and will follow you to death if they have to. You are fighting for something here, remember that. Or else every single person I saw die… I watched them die… would have died in vain. War is stupid enough without adding thousands of pointless deaths." She looked away, stabbing down at her ham with her knife.

Éomer was staring hard at her. "You seem to know a little about death," he said quietly.

She nodded. "Been there, done that," she added moodily. "It really isn't uncommon for someone like me to die in my world and be brought back only to face the next worst thing."

"You have spoken of your own battles and your own war," he continued, his eyebrows lifting in curiosity. "For some reason, I cannot see you wielding great technologies that can kill many at once."

"You're right," she said. "I don't use the big things. I like the sharp, pointy things. Those are what I'm good at."

"You have proven to be adept at such weaponry," Éomer replied, giving her a rare show of respect. "It would be a shame to see such talents go to waste."

"That's why I'm on your side," she reminded him, pushing her plate aside. "Not your side specifically but it's part of the reason why I'm here." She reached for her goblet before she completely babbled herself out, but she knew that the others were still looking at her rather curiously. Considering that they'd spent most of their luncheon asking her questions about where she'd come from and what she did, their speech turned back to their mission.

Realizing that it was a bit out of her league, she rose and went outside, dropping down on one of the drier rocks and tipping her face to the weak sunlight above her, glistening over the black waters. It wasn't very warm, but the light was comforting nonetheless.

They were vulnerable, no matter how many battles they won, she decided. Buffy remembered what Andrew had said only a few months ago. It's a story of ultimate triumph tainted with the bitterness for what's been lost in the struggle. Struggles she had endured, triumph she had had. And now, none of it seemed to matter. This world was headed for a serious fall, and Buffy had just survived the first hurdle.

Yet she knew one thing was clear: she still didn't want to die. She was willing to live until she was twenty-four, and then the year after that and so on. She had much she wanted to do. See this world, for one. They had demons and everything; all she had to do was look. She had to fulfill this 'request' first, however, and she was willing to see it through to the end. She just wondered how many more battles there would be before the end came. How many people were going to die that she knew and had become entangled with? Her life was basically in their hands, considering her small victory at Helm's Deep wouldn't have happened without the support of the troops she'd managed to get through the battle. She had been a General for many years as the only Slayer. Even when the others prepared for the final showdown battle with the First, she'd been the Alpha woman.

Oh, how her role had changed. She was surrounded by men who fought wars for survival. She was surrounded by an Elf that was rather amusing to watch. The dwarf was just plain hilarious and she found him to be a kindred soul; spontaneous, robust and determined. And then there was Gandalf, a Wizard that seemed to trust Buffy more than she trusted herself at times. Sure, she was getting used to this world. But she didn't know where anything was. She didn't know who anyone was. If she saw Saruman, she doubted she would know who he was. She'd be the perfect guard dog, she thought wryly as she slipped her arms behind her head, grinning at the light above her.

Gandalf trusted her, though. He'd seen a part of her life. She was the champion the Powers had chosen to actually wing this world out. She was strong enough to do it, of course, but that didn't mean she was invulnerable. She was still a Slayer, a mere mortal and a human being. And, she decided as she watched the men emerge from the room, deep in conversation; she was still surrounded by far too many men. She wished that Éowyn was with them, because Éowyn was the only woman Buffy could trust out here. She'd seen some of the other Rohirric women. She almost laughed at the thought of them at Helm's Deep fighting off the Uruk-hai.

A shadow passed over her face and she turned away from it, opening one eye. The men were now breaking apart and taking in the dreadful landscape. Standing over her was Éomer, his gaze towards the horizon.

"Would you mind?" she asked, lifting her hand to shield her eyes as she stared at the male towering over her, not paying the least bit of attention to the woman on the ground.

"It would depend on what I should be minding," he replied, glancing down, surprised to see her lying there.

"I'm not invisible, you know," Buffy said coolly as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Some of us women do value sunlight instead of hours cooped up the fires."

"I see you took offense to that," Éomer said, taking a step back to allow the sunlight to fall back across her fair features.

"No kidding," Buffy said, her tone cool. "See, where I come from, women have a lot of power. They're not weak and they're sure as hell not knitting anything. My _grandmother_ never knit anything."

"I apologize," he said. She stopped mid-rant and glanced at him, this time her gaze was befuddled.

"Wow," she said under her breath. "Never knew you had it in you."

"Not all of us men are full of arrogance and ignorance," Éomer replied. "You forget I have a sister."

"I have one, too," Buffy said, smiling fondly. "Her name is Dawn."

"You have never spoken of your sister," Éomer said quietly.

"That one hobbit reminds me of her," Buffy said, smiling fondly. "You know, addled in the brains but big on heart? That's my Dawnie. She always got into trouble. There are so many baby skeletons in my closet I could tell you about besides her." Her gaze turned sad again and she looked away.

"Did she survive your final battle?" he asked.

"I saw her," Buffy replied, seeing with eyes that looked upon a bus speeding away ahead of a disaster. "She was riding with others I knew to safety. I'm sure she's alive. I feel it. But she's gonna have it tough. She's lost her whole family now."

"Will you not see her again?" Éomer asked.

"No," Buffy said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her legs. "It's one of those things, you know? You live, you fight, you die, and you just know everything else is all right. I asked the Powers to watch over her. I didn't see it being settled with logic, so I settled for yet another Buffy-death of mayhem, despair and agony. Did I mention how much dying hurts?"

"I have seen many things of wonder as of late," he said, casting a glance at the trees still in talks with Gandalf and his Uncle. "But to see a woman walk again after death…"

"Yeah, I'm pretty spry for a corpse," Buffy said, stretching slightly. She looked at him then, really looked at him. "You have a sister, too."

"You two have been acquainted, that much I saw before my imprisonment," Éomer replied darkly.

"I like her," Buffy said with a smile. "She reminds me of me, sort of. After all, I'm just a kind of supergirl chosen to fight demons and save the world. She's more like the supergirl who leads her friends to safety kind of girl."

"Éowyn has taken a liking to you as well," Éomer replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. When she glanced at him in full, her hazel eyes were full of sheepish innocence, while her smile denied the truth of the pain underneath. "Although why she has, I cannot begin to fathom."

Her response was to take a handful of pebbles at her side and throw them at the arm of his armor. He glanced down at his armor and then glared up at her, feeling his anger subside as she laughed, her bright eyes glistening. When she smiled this way, he saw what she truly was: a warrior alone standing before many foes. A wind blew her hair from her shoulders then and her eyes blinked as she gazed at him.

"You're okay," she said, patting his shoulder. Rising, she stretched and glanced around. He rose behind her, and at his motion, the other nineteen stood, looking around in some confusion. "It's okay. You don't have to stand up on my account… the guy over there with the crown on his head gets that. I'm just a messenger or a passenger or… something."

"A messenger you may call yourself, but a fighter is what I see," Éomer replied.

"Oh, so you see a fighter now?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "And here I thought you saw someone who actually enjoying _knitting_."

"Have you heard what the others have spoken of you?" Éomer asked quietly.

"So I know how to fire a few flame-y arrows and I can point the sharp end of the sword into a bad guy," Buffy said, crossing her arms. "A lot of people can do it."

"A lot of people do not have the capacity to lead a group of distrustful men safely through a battle without killing a great many off," Éomer replied. "I have misjudged you and your strength, for it seems are rather tough."

"Of course I'm tough," Buffy sighed. "I've only been doing this, what, eight years now? If I wasn't strong, I'd have stayed dead."

"You will get your chance again before the end comes," Éomer said. "You will have your strength tested, as many of us already have had. You will have your leadership questioned, as all of us have had. And before the end you will be needed, so it is with great fortune you have come to us now."

She looked at him, astounded. "You just have to keep surprising me, don't you?" she asked.

"This has nothing to do with surprises," he replied.

"You say that now," she added, stretching her arms over her head, her armor clanking around her. Spying Treebeard with both Théoden and Gandalf in the distance, she turned her attention towards the black Tower of Orthanc in the distance. "What do you suppose is actually there?" she asked, pointing to the Tower.

"Saruman, for one," Éomer growled. "Many have also spoken of Gríma's presence in his witch-lord as well."

"Wormtongue?" Buffy asked, freezing as she placed her arms back at her sides. "Oh, the next time I see him, that pathetic little snake-man is dead."

"I can see why my men would have a reason to fear you," Éomer said.

"I hope that was just supposed to be sarcasm," Buffy replied. "I would hate to have to kick your ass."

"It was meant to be sincere," he replied, frowning. "I can see it was not taken as such."

"It was taken as such by me to be sarcasm," Buffy said, feeling her words jumble before shaking her head impatiently. "Oh, the stories I could tell… you'd be old and grey by the time I got through them all."

"Perhaps when the war is over and all of the darkness is gone, you will tell me all of these… stories?" he asked lightly as he started moving downwards, extending his hand towards her. "You have become a good acquaintance, Merilin."

"Thanks," she replied, taking his hand as she hopped down from her position. "And please, call me Buffy. That's what I was named in my own world. It's what I'm used to."

He tried the name. "Buff-ee," he said slowly. "I suppose it is quite better than Merilin, a name that the Elf-kind might give to you."

"The Lady of the Golden Wood gave it to me," Buffy said with a maddening smile. "You know, the one you didn't like and still don't?"

"I may have to alter my opinion on such things," he replied, straightening since both Gandalf and Théoden were drawing nearer.

"Merilin," Gandalf said when they had arrived. "We have much to discuss. Come!"

Leaving the King and his men behind, Buffy walked with Gandalf for some distance before he turned back to her. "I know that you have the strength to do as I had hoped you would, and for this I am most grateful. I have called for others to come, but many may not. There are those who can hear your wishes in the deep, and some of those have been answered. There are Rangers from the North riding with the sons of Elrond. They will come upon us in two days hence. I have spoken with Treebeard, and Théoden has concurred. The Ents and the forest will do what they will on this side of the border. The Rohirrim will ride to the aid of Gondor for even at this hour their need is the most great.

"The King of Gondor rides with us; this is Aragorn. In his place is the Steward, a care-taker for the throne. This war has already claimed his heir and first-born. I will not allow this war to claim his second. The Steward, the lord Denethor, does not have the strength to repel the numbers I fear Mordor will send. Rohan must ride and aid. I have sent for others, and many are on their way to Edoras and then Dunharrow now. I trust that Éowyn remains in Dunharrow with all of her people. Tonight we will ride for Helm's Deep and tomorrow we will continue towards Dunharrow and then ride to Gondor and war.

"I must ask that you remain with Théoden, since it is in his trust that you will surely be of best use. I could use you in Minas Tirith, the city of Kings of Gondor, but with Rohan does your loyalty lie. I will not deceive you. I know the conditions of this oath you have taken, and this battle may surely end all hopes of escaping with your life. Do not grow weary, for these men need your counsel more than ever. They have seen you fight and in your courage, they will place your faith. If the company should split, I must ask that you remain with the King, although I know that this is where your promise lies. I have seen your friendship with the King's men grow, and they trust you. You have never given them any reason to doubt this.

"I must complete one last task before we leave Isengard and it is not one I look to wholly. I must speak with Saruman, and you will see for the first time your enemy, your first enemy. He is likened to the hell-god you defeated on Earth, and you will see that he will deceive you as she had. I would ask you to go with me if I knew your strength would be unchallenged."

"I had Evil telling me what to do, but I didn't listen to it then," Buffy said with a small smile. "But this isn't the time for me to go around ignoring people. I'll stay behind and watch over the Riders. You can never leave a man to do a lady's work, or so my Mom used to say."

"Your speech is most beguiling, young Dagnir," Gandalf said, blinking at her. "Yet, you are wiser than I thought perhaps beyond your years."

"I've been dead before, Gandalf," she said. "Death is what Slayers dream about. I can't fear it anymore. I've died too many damned times as it is. If this war is to come, I'll go into battle tonight with this sword and the pointy axe and be perfectly content to see the end of the world come and go."

He saw the longing in her eyes then. "I don't want to die," she said quietly. "I'm not ready for it yet. Maybe someday, when I'm old and grey and tired of living in a world like this… maybe then I'll want to dream it again. But not today."

He gazed into her eyes a moment longer before clasping her shoulder. "Let us go and ride to Orthanc. It would be better if you did not accompany us to visit Saruman, as Gríma Wormtongue also dwells here."

"I may have misjudged that then," she said with a snarl, her fists clenching at her sides. "He's a no-good, rotten piece of—"

"Nonetheless, you have made the wise decision to remain behind," Gandalf told her gently. "Come, let us get our horses. We will speak with Saruman, and then we shall be on our way."

- - - -

In the next part, Saruman and Gandalf's final confrontation begins at Orthanc. I will more than likely post the next section after that, and it deals with the seeing stones and the return to Helm's Deep.

After many, many months of deliberation, I believe I am finally happy with how this fiction has turned out. Of course, not every chapter will be action-packed, but after writing the scenes for Pelennor, I was really happy at the way they turned out. An action writer, I am not. I have never been one to write more than prose or romance, but I have been learning action throughout my journey in the wonderful world of the crossover. I know this chapter has slightly slowed down the story, but there is little I could do. There needed to be some more character development. Buffy needs to come into her own, and she needs to get in league with these men who have heard stories yet still do not have the essential trust. It is also a little reprieve from the story in the books, so it did come out of nowhere.

I will update _I Capture the Sun_ by Friday, and have also updated my one-timer tonight with another part, considering I have been fretting about it for so long that I decided to just do it. It has become a series, much to my horror. I have another story I am ready to start posting as well, and may by Friday. I might hold off until next week, though. I am still in my home-state, spending time with my brother and his girlfriend. And, considering my last few weeks have been rather jumbled lately, I was finally able to spend about three hours watching a part of the Return of the King Extended version tonight. I was also able to see a viewing of _The Aviator_ at the brand new theatre in this tiny town!

- - -


	11. Orthanc

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Gratitudes: This story has more than 100 reviews! I never thought I would get that many reviews, or quite that many positive ones! You made this fanfiction newcomer rather happy and in the 'jumping for joy' temperament tonight. Perhaps this is why I have chosen to post two sections, instead of just one. I do wish for this story to conclude, and to realize that it is a third-ways done is quite… sad. For those of you inquiring about a certain Buffy pairing, he was definitely one of the two we chose, considering there are few fictions featuring this pair. The other comes to pass rather soon. We had to introduce one before the other, you know. But, to answer a few questions from the reviewers… _Russa__ –_ It was well established from the first chapter when Whistler tells her in no uncertain terms that she will never see her family again. That does not mean she will not, however, considering she does make a lot of sacrifices in the upcoming chapters and she may _earn_ a glimpse into their lives… but that's for another discussion. I offer you all tantalizing sweets for being so generous with your time and kindness in reviews! It really makes a fanfiction author's night!

Chapter Summary: Gandalf faces Saruman… and Buffy learns she has new powers.

Chapter Warning: This is definitely from the books. I could not have it any other way. I forced Katrina to actually read through the scenes and add her own implementation. Hence, this is why the chapter appears as it is so. I did a few bits of editing with my own words, but this chapter is mainly hers.

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**Chapter 11**

**Orthanc**

_By Katrina Claire_

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Once they had gotten their horses, they rode back into the water, an experience in itself. Sador wasn't forthcoming in riding onward, and it was only following Gandalf did she get anywhere. The ground was very uneven, and hard to tread on, but the horses hurried forward.

Before they reached the Tower, they were joined by five walking through the water, led by the two Hobbits.

Gandalf rode forward to meet them, his charge ever by his side. She was looking fondly upon the Hobbits, even as the other three approached.

"Treebeard and I have made a few plans," Gandalf told the party of five as he and Buffy met them. "Now that we have all had some much-needed rest, we must be going again. I have one last task I must see to before we depart. I must pay Saruman a farewell visit, even as dangerous and useless as it may seem. Those of you who wish to come with me, let us go; beware, this is not the time to jest, for this is a hard task I ask of you."

"Sounds serious," Buffy said lightly. "But you already know my choice."

"I will come with you," Gimli the Dwarf said. "I wish to finally know whether or not he looks like you."

"Saruman will appear to resemble me in your eyes if you truly wish it," Gandalf said, his eyes twinkling. "There is much he will do to fool you."

"What's the danger?" one of the Hobbits asked. "Will he shoot at us and pour fire out of the windows; or can he put a spell on us from the distance?"

"The last is the most likely," Gandalf said in his grave voice. "But there is no knowing what he can do or what he may choose to try. And Saruman has powers you cannot begin to guess. Beware of his voice."

These were the words that many should have taken truly to heart.

The group now came to the foot of Orthanc. It was black and the rock gleamed in the reflection from the pond of water surrounding its vast base. On the eastern side, there was a set of stairs leading up to a door. They rose out of the water, the pool lightly splashing against the foundation. At the foot of the stairs, Gandalf and Théoden dismounted.

"I will go up," said Gandalf. "I have been in Orthanc and I know the perils that await me."

"And I too will go," Théoden replied. "I am old and fear no peril anymore. I wish to speak to the enemy who has wronged me so. Éomer shall come with me and see that I do not falter."

"And Aragorn will come with me," Gandalf said with a nod. "Let the others wait at the foot of the stairs. They will hear enough, if there is enough to hear."

"Legolas and I alone represent our kinds," Gimli said quickly. "We will also come behind."

"What of the Dagnir?" Legolas asked, spying the woman standing at the front of the column of Rohirrim next to the First Marshal. "She alone represents her own kind; will she not also come?"

"She has made the choice to remain behind," Gandalf said in his quiet voice that only they alone could hear. "She has not the patience to listen and understand and would rather see both the Wizard and his fork-tongued servant dead." Raising his voice, he lifted his staff and rotated on the base and began to slowly climb the stairs. "Come then!" The King and the rest of the company followed all the way to the door.

The Riders of Rohan sat uneasily upon their horses, glancing fearfully at the Tower. Buffy sat on Sador next to them, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the figures a full story above them. Slowly, she rode forward and dismounted on the foundation, joining the two little Hobbits sitting on the bottom step, looking morose.

"What did we come for? We are not wanted," muttered Pippin.

"Hey, now, what's with the bad attitude?" Buffy asked, sitting down on the other side of him. Both Hobbits looked at her in surprise; Aragorn had briefly explained who she was when they had asked, but he didn't really know her. She was a friend of Gandalf's, and she was powerful. This was basically the most they had gotten from him.

"We do not like being left behind," said the Hobbit most reminding her of Dawn. It had to be Merry, since he was the one who had greeted them when they'd first reached Isengard.

"I know how you feel," Buffy replied. From what Gandalf had told her of these Hobbits, they may be small, but they were older than she was. "I'm not a big fan of the whole getting-left-behind."

Above them, Gandalf beat his staff upon the door of Orthanc. "Saruman, Saruman!" he called in a loud, commanding voice. It was so deep it sounded throughout the flooded ruins of Isengard. "Saruman, come forth!"

For some time, there was no response. At last a window above the door opened and a voice filtered through. "Who is it?" it asked sneakily. "What are you doing here?"

It was the King who blinked uncertainly up at the window, his face reflecting the horror in his eyes. "I know that voice," he said. "I curse the day I first heard it."

Far below them, Buffy stood up suddenly, her jaw tightening in anger. She felt Wormtongue's presence, and it was the cold commanding nature of the Wizard that kept her from bursting down the door and attacking that bastard in the first place. She sat down again, feeling quite restless, her fists clenched. Both Hobbits noticed her stature, but chose wisely not to call her on it.

"Go and fetch Saruman!" Gandalf replied. "Do not waste our time!"

The window closed and they waited some more. When the voice first spoke, it was as sweet and melodious as the most enchanting melody. Those who heard the voice couldn't remember the words, just the sound. It was beyond hypnotizing. It was pure charm. The voice that spoke was wise and reasonable, and within those that listened there awoke a desire. Buffy watched as the Riders stared up with awe in their expressions. She was starting to doubt her own doubts, for this voice was far nicer than Gandalf's crabby old groveling. Blinking, she bit her lip and glanced up the stairs. The Hobbits next to her stirred.

"Well?" the voice asked. "Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace in this harsh light of day?" The voice was kind and beguiling, an older man asking for comforts that had been stripped away.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. After facing the First, she knew better than being attacked by a voice. There was a figure behind this, but this figure had no power anymore. There were two White Wizards, Gandalf had told her this much. This one had no power besides the sound of his voice.

The only question was if the others could reject his promises. He sounded as bad as the First disguised as herself.

A figure ascended at the rail, clothed in robes that were quite indistinguishable from his surroundings. He had a long face and sad, kindly eyes. His hair was as snow-white as Gandalf's, only there were bits of black about his mustache and his temples. He was quite tall and held in his hand a black staff. His eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the figures gathered on the stairway far below.

"Come now," he said, his voice still quite kind. "Two of you I do know by name. Gandalf I know too well to have much hope that he seeks my counsel here. But you, Théoden, Lord of the Mark, are declared by your nobility. Why have you not come before as a friend? I have long desired to see you and save you from the unwise and evil counsels that beset you. Is it too late? Despite the evil that you have done to me, I can indeed still save you and deliver you from the ruin ahead of you. Alas, I alone can counsel you now."

Buffy's eyes narrowed even further. This was almost ridiculous… and yet… the King wasn't responding. He just stared up at Saruman, his face an impeccable mask of fear and awe. She saw him glance at Gandalf and then hesitate. It took all of her willpower not to climb the stairs and throttle him back to his senses. The Riders next to her started murmuring their agreement to Saruman and Buffy gasped audibly and this time, she wasn't so patient.

"I see what this is," she said clearly, glaring up at the Wizard far above her. "I see what you're trying to do. Well, it doesn't work on me, you evil Wizard!"

"I do not speak to women," Saruman said, smirking slightly down at her. "No more than I should speak to a dog."

Her jaw fell open with indignation, but the Riders who had ridden with her at Helm's Deep were actually nodding in agreement! Turning astonished eyes to them, she heard Gimli speak above her. "We did not come here to beg," he said in his deep baritone.

"Peace," said Saruman, and for a brief moment, his eyes flashed. "I do not speak to you either, Gimli Glóins son. You are far away from home and should have no concern of the troubles of these lands. Allow me to first speak with my friend, the King of Rohan." Turning back to the King, he spoke again. "What do you say, Théoden King? Will you have peace with me? Shall we make our counsels together as in the days of old and grow stronger against such evil days?"

"Don't listen to him!" Buffy shouted. The King still hadn't answered and appeared to look transfixed. Buffy felt her heart start to falter and looked away until another voice sounded above them.

"Now we feel the peril we were aware of," Éomer spat. "Have we ridden forth to victory only to have it all be taken away by the sweet lies of this old fool? Will you make peace with this treachery and this murderer? Remember those who died! Their lives should not have been given in such vain!"

Dear Éomer… no matter how dark things got, he always managed to put things into such clear perspective.

"If you speak of poison, Éomer Éomund's son, speak of your own," Saruman said, and this time the anger in his eyes was evident. "To every man his part. Valor in arms is your own. Meddle not in politics that you do not understand, for in your small mind you slay the enemies your Lord commands you to. The friendship of Saruman and Orthanc must not be thrown aside so lightly were you to become King. You have no knowledge or interest in such dealings, and counsel with Orthanc will alone save you from the perils of darkness. You have won a battle, but not a war. There is a long road ahead and we must work together."

Saruman turned his attention back to the King. ""But, my Lord, am I to be called a murderer just because a few men fell in battle? Shall we have peace and friendship?"

All of the air around them seemed to be still, waiting for Théoden to respond.

At last, he opened his mouth. "We will have peace," he said, and the Riders below him cheered. He started a bit and lifted his hand to hold off the sounds below. "We will have peace," he repeated, his voice gaining confidence, "when you are dead and those in your service are wasted. You lie and you corrupt, Saruman, and for this I look upon you with anger. You bend your claw to Mordor and will use my people for your own twisted games. I am done with it. I am through with you and your lies."

Buffy gasped below, a grin breaking out across her face, relief crashing down like waves upon her.

"I fear that your voice has lost its charm," the King concluded, his eyes full of savage pride. The men below looked as though they'd been dunked in icy water, as though they had been startled from some dream. They looked at their King in dismay, but Théoden stood his ground.

Saruman, however, was not pleased to hear this. His eyes turned from their glistening color to a deep red, and his voice grew, more treacherous than ever. "I do not need you," he said, wielding his staff and holding it to the air. "Go back to your huts and your horses, consume your lands and live with the sacrifices many more will make. You are but children to my eyes and I need you not."

His eyes fell on the woman below and his frown intensified. Her eyes were quite strong and in them held a warning. "Go back to your hovel and crawl with the rest of the vagrants. You are beneath these horse-men and should it be their will, they would have you as dead as their fallen."

Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously, but Saruman had already turned his attention back to Gandalf.

"But you, my friend, to you I bear no ill will." Even as he spoke, Buffy felt as though she were being shut out of this conversation, and could tell by the looks on the others faces that they saw themselves as unimportant as she felt at that very moment. It was really quite rude. "Will you not come and have counsel with me, for there is much to discuss. Let us understand one another, and dismiss these lesser folk. Will you not come up? Will you not take counsel?"

Gandalf's face was impassive for a few moments, and then suddenly he started laughing. "Saruman, Saruman, you have missed your true calling! A court's jester should you have been, begging for scraps with the other vagrants. I see you now for what you are, and you have misunderstood me. I will not seek counsel with you, for you have no counsel to give. You have been consumed by the darkness of Mordor and this I will not lower myself to." He paused a moment as he passed his staff before his face. "Will you not come down to me?"

Saruman nearly coiled over, his eyes full of rage, bitter laughter filling the air around them all. "Will I come down! Gandalf the Grey, you are quite condescending. You wish for me to leave Orthanc? Must I surrender the keys and my staff to you so that you may lord over all?"

"I have no desire to lord over this land or any land," Gandalf replied. "This is the only condition in which I will leave you. Speak now. Will you come down to me? You will be able to leave Orthanc."

"I trust you not," Saruman replied, his tone now chillingly livid. "Leave me now, and leave these rag-tag that falter at your feet. Such lesser beings will be more useful to me, but are considered fodder to you." With a last disgusted wave of his hand, the Wizard turned to leave, but Gandalf held firm.

"Saruman! Come back, Saruman!" he commanded.

The Wizard returned as though against his will. His staff was raised menacingly, and his eyes glittered with pure evil. Buffy shuddered down below and took a protective step towards the Hobbits, who looked terrified. Stepping in front of them, she glared upwards.

"What more have you to say to me, Gandalf? Go now, and die in the best way seemingly fit for a Wizard who wants more than he will ever achieve." Saruman lifted his staff as though it were a weapon. "You are all going to die."

There was a sharp blast as fire shot out from the end of the staff. Immediately, those closest to Gandalf backed away as the fire came upon the White Wizard.

"Gandalf!" Buffy cried, but could do nothing, since if she walked away now, she'd be leaving the Hobbits in grave danger. She turned angry eyes to Saruman. Gandalf had managed to dispel most of the flames, but his gaze was as livid as that of the woman in his service.

"I am so going to kick your ass," Buffy said gleefully. Saruman turned his staff towards her.

"She speaks of strength, yet she is as small as the Halfling," Saruman said, an unpleasant smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Yet there is something about her…"

"Yeah, there's something about me," Buffy said delightedly. "I'm a Slayer, you moron."

Even though a moron was probably not within the Wizard's vocabulary, he saw the protective stance she had over the two Halflings and lifted his staff again. Just as he fired out another blast, Gandalf lifted his own hand into the air.

The fiery blast came down and Buffy put her hands out to protect herself. What happened then nearly surprised her. The fire had been blocked by a clear shield with her hands. She straightened as she saw whatever shield it was absorbing the fire until there was nothing left.

"Take that," she muttered.

"Saruman, too long have you stood with corruption on the Council! Too long have you listened to the beckons of Mordor! No more! I cast you from the Council! Your staff is broken, and your place gone. Go, and crawl back into the shadows," Gandalf said, finally lowered his own staff. The head from Saruman's fell off his staff and bounced far below, landing in the water.

As Saruman dropped to his knees and crawled back into his Tower, At that moment, an object came flying from the top window. It handed on the railing and smashed through it, bringing itself and debris downwards. Buffy had to duck out of the way as the object flew past her head and landed with a dull thud into the water.

"The murderous rogue!" Éomer shouted, glaring up at the Tower where moments before Saruman had been standing there, mocking them all. "He could have killed her."

"No," Gandalf said, turning around to face the others, who sat uneasily upon their rides. "No, that was not cast by Saruman or even at his bidding, I think. A parting shot from Wormtongue, ill-aimed but precisely shaped for the destruction he wished to cause."

"Perhaps he could not decide which he hated more, you or Saruman," Aragorn said quietly as they descended the stairs. Buffy moved aside, and the Hobbits followed. One cast a look into the water and saw a deeply pearly color shining from within. It was the size of a small globe and was very dark, except it kept emitting a beautiful bright golden color. Pippin darted into the water and reached down, clasping the object with his hands and lifting it above the water. It glowed a brilliant shade of flame-yellow, and as he carried it back to the stairs, he looked as though he were under tremendous strain. Gandalf, after mounting Shadowfax, rode over to where Pippin stood at the base of the steps, the ball still in his hand. He stared at it, as though it were something quite precious.

"I'll take that, Peregrin my lad," Gandalf said suddenly, as though he were keen to break the spell that had fallen over the young Hobbit. Glancing up, Pippin reluctantly handed the globe to Gandalf, who wrapped it in his cloak with a resounding "Hmph" and eyed Pippin carefully. "I did not ask you to carry this."

As Gandalf rode away, the other riders followed him. Putting her hand on the Hobbit's shoulder, Buffy said quietly, "Let's go," as she moved towards Sador who trotted up to her mistress, eager to be underway again.

Yet, as Orthanc disappeared into the distance, the Ents were circling the gates of Isengard, waiting for Gandalf and those in his company to come forward. Buffy managed to pull Sador up beside Shadowfax as Treebeard and the others looked down upon them. Behind, there was a loud shrieking noise and the sounds of wails coming from the abandoned Tower.

"So Saruman now knows what was taken from him," Gandalf said heavily. "He will not be keen to forgive Wormtongue."

"They both deserve to fry is my thinking," Buffy said angrily. "Does he even know how many men those super-demons of his killed? How many I watched die? I almost took him out myself."

"I had no doubt that you would not try, seeing as you are one to judge quickly and come to terms with consequence fairly enough," Gandalf said, once again speaking in some odd riddle. "I did not wish to take Isengard for myself, but as a gift for someone in the future, perhaps."

"It's kind of depressing," Buffy replied sadly, glancing at all of the debris floating around them. "I bet a little redecorating and some pumping wouldn't hurt though. Or you could fill this place up. It'd make a great lake."

"In the future, what becomes of Isengard has not yet been foretold," Gandalf told her quietly.

"Speaking of futures," Buffy said, eyeing the strange parcel cradled delicately in Gandalf's lap. "What's with the glowy orb? I think it's kind of pretty."

"What will become of this no man can tell," Gandalf replied. "As to what it could possibly be, I have not an idea. I will sleep on it when we camp tonight. For now, we must part with Isengard and return to Helm's Deep. Things are starting to move in motions that may not be able to come undone. You, my Dagnir, are one of them."

"Great. I'm a thing," Buffy said, wrinkling her nose in distaste as Treebeard spotted their company and moved towards them. "That's always good to know."

Behind them, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli gazed with wonder at the Ents.

"Here are three of my companions, Treebeard," said Gandalf, beckoning the others closer. "I have often spoken of them, but you have not yet seen them."

Treebeard eyed the three warily for a moment before turning to the Elf, his golden eyes softening slightly at the sight of one of the Mirkwood Elves that thrived in the trees. "You have come all the way from Mirkwood? A dear forest that used to be!"

"And it remains so," Legolas replied. "Yet those of us who dwell there never lose the yearning to seek new trees. Perhaps when this war is over, I should dearly love to journey into Fangorn. When we passed beneath it, I wanted to turn back."

Treebeard looked most pleased with this. "I hope that you may have your wish," the Ent replied.

"I will come if I will," Legolas told him. "A friend has told me that upon our survival, we will visit Fangorn together."

"Any Elf that comes with you is welcome within the forest," Treebeard replied in his deep baritone.

"This is not an Elf-friend I speak of," Legolas replied with a slight smile. He tilted his head back at the grumbling sound coming from the Dwarf sitting on the horse behind him. "I speak of Gimli, the Dwarf, wielder of an axe that has hewn the necks of forty two in battle."

"Forty two?" Treebeard asked, looking as astounded as he could for a large, talking tree. "Strange is this friendship, indeed!"

"I'll say," Buffy said, but she was smiling as she glanced back at the Dwarf, who gave her one of his patented disgruntled looks.

Treebeard turned to regard her. "Your place in this is stranger still," he said deeply.

"Spoken from the mouth of a tree," Buffy said dryly, although her hands were held up in a gesture of being one who was only kidding. "No offense, but we don't have talking trees where I come from."

"He is no tree," Legolas said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He is but an Ent."

"I got that the first time around," Buffy replied snappishly.

"We must go," Gandalf said commandingly, cutting off Buffy's last retort. She cast an apologetic gaze at Gandalf before turning a triumphant smile at the Elf and his Dwarf companion. "And go now we will. Théoden has yearned for his own house since we set off for battle, and to his house we will return. Edoras awaits. Will you mind if we remove your gatekeepers from your service, for I fear they will have more use with us than standing for the mighty gates of Isengard."

"I mind not," Treebeard said, with a great Hoom Hoom. "But I shall miss them. We have become friends during our short while together that Ents will not soon forget that. Farewell, my gatekeepers."

"We will not forget you," said Pippin, who was riding behind Aragorn. Merry agreed from his own position behind one of the riders of Rohan.

"There is still much to be done here," Gandalf said quietly. "You know of what I speak."

"We know that there is much yet to do to make Isengard safe again and the Ents will see to it," Treebeard said, bowing his magnificent head. "Until we meet again, Master Gandalf, farewell."

As Gandalf passed under the broken archway, the others followed onto higher and dryer grounds. Sador tossed her glorious head and whinnied as they came to a stop again in the higher grasses. Glancing back, Buffy saw all of the Ents staring at the company of men somewhat mournfully. Both Merry and Pippin had returned to collect their things at the gate, and Gandalf had now taken Merry onto his steed while Pippin returned to his position behind Aragorn.

"I'm gonna miss them," Buffy said quietly to herself as Sador moved forward again, almost eager to start cantering across the fields.

"There may be a time when you will look upon them again, before the end," Gandalf assured her. Merry just looked at the woman, blinking uncertainly.

"Who are you?" he asked. Gandalf gave a short, sharp laugh.

"This is one tale best reserved for the road. Come! Let us go… we ride for Helm's Deep!"

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Despite the fact that the next section will be up and coming once I finish editing it through, it will contain a bit of seeing stones, more history and a little bit more drama.


	12. Seeing Stones

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

Chapter Summary: A seeing stone causes trouble for the group as they head back to Helm's Deep as Buffy begins to realize that her part in this world is bigger than she expected as she comes to the King's service.

Chapter Warning: It as a little bit of this and a little bit of that.

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**Chapter 12**

**Seeing Stones**

_By Katrina Claire_

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The sun was sinking behind the mountains when the company finally departed from Isengard. The Ents stood in their long line along the broken gates as the party continued their journey.

After nearly an hour of easy riding, Merry decided to speak up again. "How far are we riding tonight?" he asked, as the sun had now dipped far below the mountains, and the temperature was dropping quite rapidly. Buffy glanced at Shadowfax and his two riders curiously and secretly thanked the Hobbit for asking this question in her stead. "I don't know how you feel with small rag-tag companions dangling behind you, but this rag-tag is tired and wishes to lie down."

"So you heard that?" asked Gandalf, smiling slightly. "Don't let it get to your heads. In fact, I believe he has paid you a compliment, to think that you and Pippin were on his mind. Who you are, whether you were captured and how indeed you escaped while all of the Orcs perished… all of these are riddles that trouble the mind of Saruman. To feel need of his concern, this is a compliment undeniably."

"Some compliment," Buffy scoffed from the steed next to his. "Insults are more like it, and crappy ones at that. Didn't you say you've been here a long, long time? You'd think that for someone who has been here as long as you have been… he would've learned the art of comebacks by now." She glanced at Merry with a peculiar fondness in her eyes. "And you are so not a rag doll. Or… uh…"

"Thank you," Merry told both her and Gandalf. "It is a great honor to dangle at your tail, Gandalf! And it is an even higher honor to ride with one of your own. Tell me, mistress, are you one of the Istari?"

"Am I one of the huh?" Buffy asked, sounding confused.

"My order is an ancient order known as the Istari," Gandalf told her. "There were nine of us sent to Middle-earth, and five of us came to the northwestern part of this land, where we dwell now. Of the five of us, only three of us remain, sadly. Saruman is one of them, and Radagast was the other. Little is known of him and whether or not he still lives. He dwelt in Rhosgobel at the border of Mirkwood in times of old. The other two traveled to the east with Saruman, but Saruman alone returned. We do not know what has happened to them, for no one has had the time to tell."

"Oh," said Buffy, comprehending all of this. "How big is this Middle-earth exactly? So far, I've heard of the Shire, Rivendell, Lórien, Gondor, Rohan and Mirkwood. Is there more?"

"No one quite knows, except the Valar," Gandalf replied, as Merry listened intently to this conversation. "This is one discussion we need not get into now."

"Good," said Merry cheerfully. "Then perhaps I can ask my question for a second time. Are we riding far tonight?"

"A most curious hobbit you are, Meriadoc," Gandalf said with his sharp laugh. "Every wizard should have a hobbit or two. Alas, I beg your pardon. We will ride for a few hours gently and then halt. Tomorrow we must ride faster. When we came to Isengard, we meant to go straight to Edoras, but I fear our time has run its course. Messengers have gone ahead to send word to Helm's Deep, to warn the men their King is returning tomorrow. Their captains must be sent as the force of Rohan is gathered at the armory at Dunharrow. We will ride to Dunharrow after resting tomorrow at the Deep, and from there we must hasten to Gondor. But, from now on," he said, glancing at the Dagnir, who returned his intense look innocently, "no more than two or three together are to go openly over this land."

"I was only gone for like eight hours," Buffy said with a slight pout. She was really keen on getting back to this talk of the Istari.

"Did you ride off alone?" Merry asked her quietly; he had never seen a woman go into battle, and one going alone seemed almost unthinkable.

"No," Buffy said sternly, gazing at the Hobbit. "No… I went with a scouting party, and then we got separated."

"She took command of a leaderless legion of Rohirrim," Gandalf told Merry. "She fought rather well for her first true battle in this land."

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about this land," Merry said tragically. "This talk of Helm's Deep and Dunharrow and Edoras; I know none of this."

"And I will not be the one to tell you, for I have more pressing matters to discuss," Gandalf told Merry as they continued the ride onwards.

"Uh, Gandalf," Buffy said slowly, "I was going to ask about the Istari. How did you come into this world?"

"I was sent," Gandalf replied, looking puzzled at her question, "much in the same way that you were. I was from the house of Manwë and Varda. I was one of the Maiar, in essence a spirit who came to Middle-earth for the same purpose as you were. We were sent to train, advise, instruct, arouse the hearts and minds of the enemies of Sauron with resistance to the strengths of the Dark Lord." Gandalf paused a moment. "In a way, you have taken the same physical form as I have, and are in the service of the Valar."

"You mean the Powers, right?" Buffy asked.

"No," Gandalf replied, shaking his head. "The Valar is beyond the essence of what the Powers stand for. The Powers are the Maia, but the Valar are more. Like the Elves, the Valar are bound to Arda, the earth, until the end of time. The Powers as you know them stand to guide and in essence speak for the highest power, a deity of sorts. This is where your destiny is wrought, by the powers of the Valar."

"That sort of makes sense," Buffy said, although she was frowning. "I'm kind of confused about the whole Wizard thing, though."

"You are one of the Istari, in any course of action," Gandalf told her. "Even though you are not a wizard, your goals are the same as my own. There was a power beyond my own that bargained for your spirit to be brought into Middle-earth and for that, you are in my service."

"It makes more sense now," Buffy said, playing with Sador's saddle. "I get it. We're tools. The one thing I'm not so clear about is power. I have a hell of a lot of it, and I know you've got some incredible powers, but… you never use them, at least, not really."

"My role in this is not about the power I have," Gandalf replied heavily, "but rather the strength of my wisdom. You, young Dagnir, are a Slayer of demons, and your powers are much more useful. This would make you an Istari and yet it separates you from us. Your power is used for the protection, and with good reason."

Buffy didn't want to ask any more questions, since he'd just contradicted everything he'd said three minutes before. Instead, she shrugged. "I know that there's more power in me somewhere. Maybe someday I'll get to see it all, once this war is over. How many more battles are coming? We've won one."

"Yes, we have won," Gandalf replied. "But it was only the first victory and that in itself increases our danger. There is some link between Isengard and Mordor and I will have to sleep on it to discover the link. Sauron's retribution will be swift and his revenge will be great. He is ready to strike on the whim of a thought and if he does this soon, the world of mankind will fall."

"At least you're being optimistic about it," Buffy said, her voice full of cheery enthusiasm.

Buffy let Gandalf ride ahead and fell back behind Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli, who rode forward with Gandalf. Instead, she dropped back to ride next to Théoden. When they weren't discussing battle tactics or weaponry, they fell into uncomfortable lapses of awkward silence. Éomer was constantly riding on the other side and occasionally would speak up. It made for easy conversation, but the silences were drawn and full of tension and exhaustion, for they all knew the road ahead would be far beyond brutal.

At last they halted, Coming to a dale, they saw babbling brooks snaking down from fields of heather in the hills. Guards were set, two to a watch, and the men broke camp. Buffy stared at her unappetizing dinner and set the dish aside, glancing around. She saw the two Hobbits tackling Aragorn by the fire, and her gaze went to a few meters in the distance, where a brook spilled into a pond. Making up her mind, she undid her armor and dumped all of her weapons aside, taking with her only her axe. Taking a blanket from the pack on Sador's saddle, she darted into the darkness until she came to the pool. Hanging the blanket and her cloak around the pond on the thorn-bushes, she undressed and stepped into the cold water. Biting back a shriek of surprise, she submerged herself and then rose, her breath coming before her in thin bits of blue steam. She scrubbed away the tensions from Isengard and every last trace of Sador she could, considering tomorrow she could have a proper bath at Helm's Deep.

Finally, she rose from the water and toweled herself dry with the blanket. Then, replacing the blanket on the bushes around her, she wrapped herself snugly in her cloak before combing through her hair, enjoying the sweet scent of her Elvish soap. She was snapped out of her stupor by the sounds of laughter and voices nearby; the men had just received their meat for dinner and were spreading out to eat. Wrapping the damp blanket around her shoulders, she snatched her tunic and trousers and ran back to her own place in the camp, hastily folding her clothing and setting it aside with her boots before massaging her feet, damp from running through heather slick with fresh dew. There was the sound of loud laughter and singing, and with this the sounds of night came. Draping herself in a dry blanket, she lay upon the ground and closed her eyes, welcoming the sweet release of sleep.

She hadn't been asleep for more than two or three hours when her senses burst through her stupid dream of talking bowstrings and alerted her to something dangerous. Her eyes snapped open just as Pippin's terrified scream filled the camp. She leapt to her feet and tossed the ends of the blanket over her shoulders so that she could run from the hill where she slept towards a bright, fiery glow emanating from where she had last seen the Hobbits. She saw Gandalf rushing forward as the rest of the men charged closer. Gandalf tossed his traveling cloak over the shiny glass ball and pushed Merry aside as he knelt before Pippin.

Buffy caught Merry before he fell and wrapped a strong arm over his shoulders to prevent him from going closer. He struggled against her for a moment, but soon realized the strength of this woman was far greater than his own.

"Not yet," she said quietly once his feet were back on the ground. She released her arm, but her opposite hand still held tightly his arm. They edged closer just as Gandalf pulled back. Pippin let out a shuddering breath and looked around, taking sharp, rasping breaths.

"It is not for you, Saruman!" Pippin shrieked, trying to stand up, only Gandalf's hold held him where he rose. "I will send for it at once! Do you understand?" He seemed to come to himself as his eyes focused on the Wizard kneeling before him. "Gandalf?" he asked, and with this his face crumpled as a defeated young man. Buffy stepped into the light and released her hold on Merry completely as the other Hobbit dove onto the ground next to his friend. "Forgive me, Gandalf… I did not know…"

"Tell me first what you have seen," Gandalf said gently, taking the Hobbits hand. Seeing this as a private moment, Buffy stepped away, only to come face-to-face with the dozens of worried, drawn faces of the Rohirrim, an Elf, a Dwarf and a man.

"I took the ball and I looked at it," Pippin said in his tragic tone. "He… he came to me and he questioned me. He asked me why I had not reported for so long and asked me of my neglect. I didn't answer. He asked me my name, and again I couldn't answer. I told him I was a Hobbit, and he laughed."

Buffy felt her heart go out to this little Halfling. She kept her eyes on the small pile of robes which Gandalf had thrown to cover the ball.

"He hurt me," Pippin said, the haunted look alight in his eyes. "Gandalf… he gloated over me, as though I had been forced by the hand of Saruman to look into the ball. He told me that this dainty was not meant for Saruman and he would send for it at once."

Something in the Hobbit's voice sent chills down Buffy's back. She pulled away from the entire company and stood for a moment, staring to the east. Her senses had picked up more than a Halfling gazing into a forbidden orb. This had something to do with the consequence of this particular action. She heard Gandalf speaking to the others behind her and glanced at him, hoping that they were linked in mind enough to know she felt something he potentially could sense as well. This way, he could explain it and she would know and the world would be right again.

Then, to her ultimate surprise, Gandalf handed Aragorn the ball wrapped in his cloak.

"This is surely one of the palantír of Orthanc from the treasury of Elendil," Aragorn said, accepting the package with a slight bow of his head.

"It shall be given back to the one who will become the King," Gandalf replied. "But do not use it yet, for the time will come." Glancing up, his eyes stared at the stars for a moment before resting on the figure of his young Dagnir standing a few feet away, staring in the opposite direction with a troubled look on her face.

"At least we now know the link between Isengard and Mordor," Aragorn said, staring at the bundle in his hands. "This explains much."

"It's not enough," said a soft feminine voice. Buffy had returned to the circle, her eyes looking quite alarmed. "He knows that the Hobbits were there. He'll come for them. And we're just sitting here waiting to be picked off one by one."

"The Enemy, it is quite clear now, thought the stone has remained at Orthanc. Merilin is correct; Sauron will send for the Hobbit and we must take the time before he realizes this error. We must ride now, and ride hard," Gandalf said. Buffy, wearing nothing but her cloak and her blanket, retreated into the shadows to dress as Gandalf turned to the others.

"I will ride forward, and the rest of you will follow," Gandalf said urgently. "I will not be going alone."

"I will ride with you," Aragorn said quietly. "You could use my sword if the servant of Sauron comes."

"I will keep Éomer and ten riders with me," the King said calmly. "The rest may go with you and Aragorn, but of Merilin—"

"You speak as though she is one of your own," Aragorn commented.

"She is as good as one of my own kin," Théoden replied. "She has shown her loyalty to Rohan, and for this she is more than welcome in these lands."

"This decision will be her own," Gandalf replied quickly.

Buffy heard them talking about her as she pulled on her long tunic top and quickly laced her boots before stumbling back towards Gandalf and the others. He glanced at her and pulled her aside. "You know what I must ask of you," Gandalf said, leaning into her shoulder. "You remember our talk at Isengard this morn?"

"Yeah, I got that," Buffy replied, glancing at the Hobbits, now being shooed forward, "I'm with the crowned one, to the end if I have to be."

Gandalf pulled away and gave her a tense look. "It may be some time before we see one another again, Merilin. For all I know of you, that could be the end of your life. It has been quite an honor serving with someone of your dialect and stature, and I hope we have the chance to meet again."

"So do I," Buffy said, extending her hand, which Gandalf shook. "Go. Ride hard."

They both rushed from the shadows and wordlessly they gave their respective orders. Gandalf told the others to ride out while Buffy turned to speak with Théoden. Just as the other went to get underway, a shadow fell over the entire camp.

There was a hissing cry that made Buffy glance up in horror; for a moment, she thought it was Willow doing one of her black-mojo screams. Then she saw the beating wings and turned to stare at it.

"Nazgúl," the guard next to her moaned.

Several of the Riders cried out and fell to their knees, their hands covering their ears, their eyes full of terror as they glanced upwards. Buffy watched as the creature passed over them before she pulled her hand from the axe she'd tucked into Sador's saddle. The horse herself was restless and uneasy, something Buffy could attribute to, but it seemed to make their haste more necessary. She turned immediately to Gandalf and saw Aragorn pass the Wizard the little form of Pippin. She rushed forward as Aragorn met her.

"What's going on? What was that thing?" she asked as Aragorn pulled her aside as Shadowfax came charging out of the dark.

"One of the nine Dark riders," Aragorn told her, releasing her arm. "This is ill news, I fear."

"I felt it," Buffy said softly as she watched Gandalf mount his horse and then take Pippin into his arms. She charged forward and met with Gandalf.

"I ride now for Minas Tirith," he told her urgently. "You must make haste; send scouts ahead and make muster the Rohirrim. They must go to Gondor, for in this, our darkest hour, the great battle of our time awaits. I ride alone." He glanced at her apprehensive face and smiled slightly as he set his hand upon her shoulder. "They will need your strength before the end, Buffy. Do not despair, for it will not help our cause here. If the wish in your heart remains true, it will come upon a new day. I will see you again, Merilin, Dagnir of the other-world. Stay safe. Farewell."

With a last cry out to the others, he rode off into the night, passing like a silver shadow before he was swallowed by the growing twilight.

Buffy, once again, felt very much alone. Turning, she saw Aragorn standing there staring at her. Lowering her eyes, she quickly strode past him, but not before he muttered, "Get your things together; we will ride hard and fast."

She nodded and hurried to her encampment, pulling on her armor and her belt. She heard the King giving the order for all men to hasten as they would move out before the winged creature (had it really looked like a dragon? Were they real?). Yet it felt different than the last time Gandalf had left, leaving her alone in the middle of a group of strangers. They weren't all that strange to her anymore. She was actually on speaking terms with both the King and his First Marshal. The Elf and the Dwarf had already provided endless amusement for her and probably the rest within their camp. Not to mention Aragorn, who made a point to speak with her whenever there was something ill on his mind. She knew she didn't know much, but if she could sit there and nod enthusiastically with a few tempered 'uh-huhs' to help them better understand their given situation, she wasn't about to argue. They apparently thought of her as someone of intelligence, which was the first time anyone had looked at her like that, unless it was her Mother just because Buffy was her daughter or Giles because of her slaying capabilities. It was quite unusual, and she admired them for it.

One hour later, they were all ready to go, taking off at a brisk pace through the valleys. While the winged shadow had since passed, not one person spoke in their haste to get away should the foul creature return. Buffy rode beside Aragorn who had called her to him, looking as though he wanted to talk again. Talking while riding Sador rather quickly through the plains was more multitasking than Buffy really wanted to do, but she was game for the conversation. He wore a face that meant she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear.

"I must go to Minas Tirith by another road," he said to her as they rode in the vast darkness.

She had been right; this wasn't at all what she wanted to hear. "What?" she snapped irritably. "What do you mean you're going on another road? There are no roads here!"

"I know what Gandalf said to you," Aragorn replied in the air of someone not wanting an argument. "But the choice is yours alone."

Funny, she thought to herself, she didn't think she had much choice here. Ever since the eagle had brought her into an Elvish paradise, she'd been running, fighting, riding and waiting. Apparently this was all a pretense for two little Halflings carrying a cursed Ring of power into some dark, distant land to destroy it. At least Aragorn had given her a choice, and for the first time, as well.

They had only ridden for another hour when one of the rear guards came riding to the King, crying, "My lord! There are horses behind us, riding hard. They will overtake us quickly."

"Halt!" Théoden cried, and all of the company drew to a halt. As Aragorn rode forward to stand beside the King, Buffy turned Sador around and went to the end of the company. The riders she passed had all lifted their spears, their eyes full of suspicion.

There were the sounds of hooves and the slight movement of shapes in the distance. Buffy rode onward and wasn't surprised that the Marshal was there as well, his spear ready to fire should he need to use it. The number in the company pursuing couldn't be counted from this distance, but they didn't look to be much larger than the King's escort.

Once the group was fifty paces off, Éomer called out in his loud, clear tone, "Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

The group came to a dead stop. Buffy could see one figure getting down from his horse and moving closer, his hands raised in a sign of peaceful surrender. He was very tall, like a standing shadow, and Buffy felt her own hand reach for the axe kept always jammed in the belt of Sador's harness.

And then a completely unfamiliar voice rang out. "Rohan? Rohan did you say? We have ridden long to find this land, and we have found it?"

"You have found it," Éomer replied, his eyes full of the same suspicion worn in the gazes of the other Riders. "When you crossed the fords, you have entered the Mark. Now, who are you? What need do you have of haste?"

"Or you could be a little less rude," Buffy said, speaking quickly as she rode forward, despite Éomer's mutter of frustration. "Hi, welcome to Rohan. I'm Merilin, or so they call me. And you are…?"

The man stared at her as though he'd never seen anything like her. "I am Halbarad Dúnadan, Ranger of the North," he said, blinking up at her, his voice ringing out clear over the entire valley. "We have come to seek one Aragorn, for we have heard he rides with the King of Rohan." He frowned as his voice dropped, gazing at the young woman sitting in Sador's saddle above him, her intense eyes probing his face. "I do not know you… are you from these lands?"

"And you have found him!" Aragorn said, cheerfully riding forward towards the group as Buffy turned towards this new Ranger.

"Nope, not from around here. And neither are you, obviously." That said, she backed off as Aragorn reached his kinsman and embraced him.

"Halbarad! Of all the joy!" Aragorn cried in relief as he pulled back from the Ranger as tall as he was. Turning back, he lifted his hand to the King. "All is well!" he called. "Here are some of my own kin from the distant land where I came from. But why they have come and how many they may be…"

Halbarad spoke up immediately. "I bring with me thirty Rangers, as many as could be found in such haste. But, the brethren of Elladan and Elrohir have ridden with us, desiring to go to war. We rode as swiftly as your summons came."

Something clicked in Buffy's head and she slapped her hand to her forehead as realization hit her like a thousand bricks. Gandalf had told her this was coming. Why it had slipped her mind, she wouldn't want to guess.

Aragorn had just replied that he hadn't summoned Halbarad, and the other Ranger was clearly telling him Aragorn had. Rolling her eyes, she rode back to the King's column, past a petulant Éomer and stood before the Hobbit standing on the ground, staring down at him.

"Come on," she said, pulling him onto her horse and taking the reins of Aragorn's steed. "You shouldn't have to stand around waiting all day while these guys play 'mine's bigger than yours'."

Their reunion was short-lived as Aragorn returned for his horse and rode onwards with the Rangers and two very fine folk that Buffy hadn't seen since she'd laid eyes on the Elves of Lórien. She rode with the King's company with Merry before her, and she finally told him what she was as they rode along in the darkness.

"You're… you're a real Slayer?" the Hobbit finally asked as the sun was starting to rise.

"Yup," Buffy said, a hint of pride in her voice. "One of the only ones, too. Dagnirs, I think Gandalf called them."

"We have heard of those!" Merry said cheerfully. "They have come from old legends and the tales of children long past. How did you come to this land?"

"I just… did," Buffy said, and the Hobbit started, craning his neck around to look up at her. When he saw there was no mirth or hint of amusement in her face, he took it for the truth. He heard her mutter something then about secret identities being completely screwed in this world and saying that if she was the only one, _no one_ else should know about her.

"You really are something borne from a legend," Merry said, his voice filled with wonder.

"Yeah, I'm just a happening girl on a horse," Buffy said sarcastically as they finally crossed the Coomb, the Hornburg stretching in the distance. Once they had reached the Keep, Merry was swept away and Buffy left Sador in the hands of those inside the Keep. Taking her essentials with her, which included her weaponry, she made her way to the room she and Gimli had inhabited the last time they were there. It hadn't been four nights ago now. Stripping down to her worn tunic and trousers, she claimed her very last bar of Elvish soap and went to bathe.

After managing to get some new garments and a few bars of Rohirric soap (which didn't have the sweet smell the Elvish soap possessed but instead a tingling, pine-fresh scent), she returned to her room and nearly collapsed on the cot as the sun broke through the horizon.

She was awakened only a few hours later by someone prodding her side. Lifting her bleary eyes, she blinked up at Aragorn. "Can I help you?"

"Will you come with me?" he asked, his face stretched and worn. Grumbling about the lack of manners in this world, she dressed and walked into the corridors, now spilling out with bright light. Aragorn was there, and Halbarad beside him. It was her first glimpse of this Ranger and she liked what she saw. He was tall, broad and quite surly-looking and definitely looked like he knew what to do with a weapon.

"What is it?" she asked, turning her eyes back onto Aragorn.

He led her silently through the corridors and finally locked the three of them in the Citadel. As they passed through the doors, there were two identical figures on the outside, watching the passage in.

"See that no one comes through these doors," Aragorn told the two quietly and they nodded, their hands on the hilts of their swords. Once sealed inside, Buffy yawned as she watched Aragorn walk over to a table and lift up a bundled wrapping. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, taking a few steps closer.

"It is," Halbarad said from beside her. He was holding what looked like a flagpole, but the flag was wrapped in thick black.

"I have spent hours thinking what must be done with this," Aragorn said, setting the bundle down again. "I will now ask you what you think."

"That's an evil ball, right?" Buffy asked slowly. Her experience with glowing balls was usually good, since the orb of Thessela could restore a soul, and other orbs had other healing powers as Willow had demonstrated countless times. "If you look into it, won't it hurt you?"

"You miss the point," Halbarad told her gently. "Aragorn is the rightful heir to Gondor, and as there are seven of these seeing stones, they belong to Gondor. Aragorn alone has the power to wrangle the stone to his own will."

"At what cost?" Buffy asked, turning to look at the other Ranger. "Aragorn… how bad would this hurt you?"

"The price is not too high to not be able to try," Aragorn replied quietly, pressing his thumb into his chin, apparently deep in thought. "The more Sauron knows about our front in this battle, the less he will suspect Frodo and Sam."

Buffy took a few more steps forward and placed her hand on the bundle. It stirred beneath her warm touch and even though it was covered, she could sense great evil emanating from the crystal. Withdrawing her hand, she turned to Aragorn, her gaze intense. "It's your choice and yours alone."

"I have both the right and the strength to master the stone," Aragorn replied, staring at the bundle hard again. "Or so I think."

"You have it," Buffy said quickly and he turned to look at her. Her gaze was ever so intense, burning right through him. "Quit acting like you think you know what's best for you and do something that'll change things," she said, a half-smile lighting her face. "You're supposed to be a King, right? I'd say do it for them."

"She is right," Halbarad agreed, nodding at the smaller woman before him. "She knows and she speaks from knowledge; this much I can read from her."

"This is not all that troubles my mind," Aragorn finally admitted, turning fully away from the stone.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, confused. "What bothers you?"

"It is a message brought to me from Elrond of Rivendell," Aragorn replied. "He brings word that I should remember the paths of the dead."

This was getting stranger by the minute.

"Care to elaborate?" she asked casually, folding her arms.

"There was once a group of men in the mountains," Aragorn said quietly. "They swore they would come to the aid of Gondor, but when Isilduir called for them, when Gondor's need was greatest, they fled. Isilduir, the King of Gondor, cursed them to remain in the mountains until they had fulfilled their pledge to him."

"That is why we carry this," Halbarad said, holding out his staff. Buffy took it and touched the black coverings, looking puzzled before handing it back.

"That's great and all, but what does this have to do with looking into the stone?" she asked curiously.

"It has much to do with the stone," Aragorn replied. "From the stone, I will be able to see the strength of Mordor. We will be able to determine if our enemy is strong, which we know it must be. We will know the time to strike, which is sooner than I fear we may have the time to gather our full strength."

"Rohan will be ready," Buffy said confidently. "I'm sure of it."

"That may be your position to ensure such," Halbarad said, "but do not expect anything. War has taken all of us before, as it will take us now."

"The dead men," Buffy said slowly, trying to comprehend this, "are they like an army of zombies?"

"More like an army of spirits," Halbarad said, wincing slightly, "yet no man has ever known, since they keep the road under the mountain. The dead do not suffer the living to pass. No one who has ventured there returned alive."

"I see your dilemma," Buffy said, leaning against the column and staring once again at the bundle. "I'll say it again: the choice is yours alone. If you feel like you can change the globe, do it. And if you feel like you have to take the paths of the dead zombie spirit-guides, we'll deal. We always do."

"I am glad you have come to my counsel," Aragorn said, bowing his head respectfully at her.

"I'm just glad I know what you were talking about," Buffy said, shrugging. "It's nice to be thought of as 'smart' for once."

"Are the tales true?" Halbarad asked her, as though he'd wanted to ask her this all along. "Is it true you are one of the Dagnir?"

"Yeah," Buffy said, smiling. "Mythical, legendary me. Welcome to my reality."

"This is a thing unheard of!" Halbarad said. "Not many have spoken of these women from the North. Where did you come from?"

"A little place in the future called California," Buffy replied sardonically. "I don't even know if it's this world or not… but it's about, oh, a million years ahead of here. There were cars and banks and ATM machines and Starbucks and those little marshmallow bits to stick in hot cocoa. Sort of like here but not."

She could tell the instant she closed her mouth that they couldn't understand a bit of it. Shrugging again, she countered, "Women have jobs, raise kids and have bank accounts all at the same time."

They exchanged a look and Buffy knew she wasn't going anywhere with this. She sighed and turned back to the bundle still sitting on the table. "So what are you going to do with that?" she asked.

Her question was answered abruptly as he lifted the bundle and cast away the cloak covering it.

Her eyes widened as she took a frenzied step backwards into the wall. "Oh," she said quietly.

It started burning a brilliant golden color as he held it, and suddenly a large eye appeared. Buffy, her senses telling her this wasn't going to be good, moved forward to wrench it from his hands, but Halbarad seized her and held her back.

"Wait," he said, as she struggled against him.

"It's hurting him!" she cried, seeing the look of intense pain and fear on the older Ranger's face. "Let… me… go!"

After a few seconds of tangled limbs and rather painful lunges into sturdy columns, Halbarad was on his back, his face twisted in pain and Buffy was on her feet, panting slightly, her eyes fixed on the glowing ball of fire now clasped in Aragorn's hand. Halbarad, grudgingly admitting that this woman was a rather fierce fighter, stood over her left shoulder to ensure she wouldn't do anything too stupid in case Aragorn's plan actually worked.

Aragorn opened his eyes again, and with a face lined with fatigue, he reached for his belt. Buffy let out a small moan as his sword came flashing into the light.

"This can't be good," Buffy groaned.

"I will not yield," Aragorn said, looking away from the ball as it glowed every brighter. Taking the sword as though he were grasping the last of his willpower, he turned and held the sword to the crystal globe. "Behold, the sword of Elendil!"

The flames burnt their brightest then, and even as his sword fell back to the ground, he fought the ball with everything he had. Buffy longed to step over and help him, but stood her ground in front of Halbarad.

At last, the ball darkened and he collapsed to his knees. Buffy quickly rushed to him, taking the ball from his hand and putting it on the floor while trying to keep the man upright. He looked up at her, tired and wary. "I saw her," he said, as though he were speaking to an apparition. "He showed me… he showed me… she was dead…"

"It was just a dream," Buffy said quietly, helping him to his feet. "You have to believe…"

Aragorn stared at the dark stone in front of him on the ground before lifting beleaguered eyes to Halbarad, who bowed his head slightly.

At that exact moment, there was a sharp knock upon the door. Buffy turned to it and glanced behind her; it was obvious neither one of them was going to move. Instead, she walked and opened it a small bit and stuck her head out. "What is it?" she asked.

"There is a summons for Aragorn," one of the figures replied. "They have asked him to come forth; the company of Rohan will soon be riding."

She turned and relayed the message before disappearing out into the light of day, wanting to give Aragorn some privacy. It was then that she noticed the two guards. They were Elves. She didn't comment on them, just moved quickly to the stairs. As she started down them, a figure was hurrying upstairs. She quickly threw herself into the wall to get out of the way, and his hand reached out to steady her.

It was Legolas, with the Dwarf rushing behind him, huffing, "Why does it always have to be the stairs?"

"Thanks," Buffy said, gently pulling herself away.

"Are you injured?" he asked lightly.

"Nope, I'm good. See?" she asked, knocking on her forehead with her fist. "Solid head."

Seeing the look of concern on his face, she nodded upstairs towards the Citadel. "He's up there…"

"Hannon le," he said, and he rushed off, the Dwarf deciding to not follow him and turning to look at the young woman's face instead. She looked as though she'd dreamt a thousand bad dreams and even more. He noticed her hesitation to go up or down and offered her a quick, yet witty, "Forget it, lass. It wasn't worth the effort."

Buffy gave him a short smile. "Depends on what I'm supposed to forget," she replied, before turning and walking downstairs. As soon as she reached the bottom, she saw Éomer standing at the entrance of the Burg, waiting for the rest of the company to come.

When he saw her, he turned to speak with her. "Where have you been? We sent up for you hours ago!"

"I was with Aragorn and the other guy in the tower," she said, pointing above them to the glittering black tower. "He… he had something he needed help with."

"Are you all right?" he asked her, taking her arm with such intensity she froze.

"I'm okay, fine, thank you," she said, pulling her arm away.

"We are set to ride soon. You'd best find your things," he said. She gave him a brief half-wave and went to do just that.

Once locked in the security of the small room, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. In the past sixty hours, she had slept maybe five hours, and it was beginning to wear on her. She was still healing from her rather moderate injuries sustained from a battle three nights previously. It felt so quiet in this moment, so still. She could finally process everything that had been thrown at her for the past few days or the past few weeks, really. She was dead again, her hands could repel fire, people actually trusted her to make wise decisions because some old Wizard in white robes trusted her enough to make them and, all in all, she was actually starting to like these people. The one thing she wasn't about to get used to was the forty pounds of armor she kept yanking on, along with that ridiculous helm. The weapons were to her liking at the very least.

Buffy just wished she had a chance to rest. She longed for her bed back in Sunnydale, knowing it was probably buried under tons of rubble. She longed for anything besides the lumpy cot which had become her domain or else the cold ground which was hardly suitable for a lady. But then, she kept reminding herself, she was at war now. People expected her to be this strong person who could actually win battles, and she wasn't about to let them down.

She pushed herself from the door and gathered everything together. She came out of the Hornburg just as Aragorn did, looking only slightly better than he had just a half hour before. When he saw her, he moved towards her, despite the fact that the two Elves stood on either side of him. "Are you leaving?"

"I'm going with the King," she said solemnly. "See, there's this thing I promised the Powers. I'm not one to break promises. Besides, you've got your Elves, your Dwarf and your resident Rangers. You don't need a Slayer. They do."

"We do not know what we will find," Aragorn protested, pulling her away from the group to speak with her in private. "We could use someone of your skill."

"This is not a negotiation," she replied crisply. "If I had a choice, I'd stay dead for once. I tend to go where the action is, and since there's really no lack of it, I'm going where I'm needed the most. These people need me, and it's about time I accept the fact I'm here for as long as I'm supposed to be here for. The point is, this isn't a democracy. It's about time I learned how to follow." She sighed as she grasped her axe as the pain of the rejection from her family and friends just a month before (or else thousands of years ahead in the future) were still stinging and her grip tightened to the point she nearly snapped the cold wood in two. "Democracies don't win wars. Isn't that why you're going to be a King?"

He grasped her shoulder for a moment. "This makes my decision difficult, for I would most like to go into battle with you."

"It'd be nice to fight with a future king," Buffy said, smiling. "I wonder what it'd be like. Not like I haven't fought next to Théoden, but it's different. I'll be fighting on your land."

"It's the same as fighting next to a Ranger," Aragorn replied. "Now, come… Théoden has made his summons and there is a decision that must be made."

"Oh, if you're going to go into the lair of those evil zombie ghost-spirits or not," Buffy said, hurrying to catch up with him as he rejoined his group.

"Something to that effect, yes," he replied.

Éomer met them at the gate and nodded at each of them. When his eyes fell on her, his gaze softened as he pulled back. As one large group, they descended the causeway and walked onto the fields, where the King was already gathered with five hundred of his men.

"Here goes nothing," Buffy muttered as she stuck the end of her axe into the ground, waiting for Aragorn to speak his mind and make the decision that could make or break a war.

- - - - -

In the next part, the ride to Dunharrow is swift as Rohan prepares for the greatest battle of their time while Buffy attempts to comfort a heartbroken Éowyn on what may become the eve of battle.

As a parting note, this fiction is nearly half done!


	13. Made To Be Broken

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings. It would be fruitless for me to deny anything else at this point, since you all seem to _speculate_ so well.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: I really appreciate all of the reviews for the past few chapters! It really helps the imagination forward to create something a little bit different. And to those of you who think you see something that perhaps you think may not be there, it is there. It just sort of happened in the whole process of writing this story, I assure you.

Chapter Summary: Buffy comforts a grieving Éowyn while the Rohirrim prepare for war.

Chapter Warning: Where two of my chapters can pass for one day, this chapter manages to pass through three. I have never been much of a fan of the pairing that is basically squelched in this chapter, but I cannot deny the attractiveness of that particular pairing. This is mostly from the books and my imagination.

- - - - -

**Chapter 13**

**Made To Be Broken**

_By Alyson Kay_

- - - - -

The King of Rohan was waiting as Aragorn finally appeared, supported by his kinsman Halbarad, surrounded by the twin sons of Elrond, Buffy, Legolas and Gimli. Éomer led them to mid-field where the King was waiting.

Buffy immediately left the company and turned to where a young man was bringing Sador out from a company of others. She smiled when she recognized the young lieutenant from the battle at this Keep just days before. "Hey," she said conversationally, packing her weapons onto the saddle.

"It is good to know you will remain with us," the man told her kindly, handing her the reins.

"To the end," Buffy replied, gently tucking her battle axe inside the leather straps before pulling herself onto her magnificent steed. The horse gave a rather resentful neigh at being treated like an armory, yet she stood waiting as Aragorn stepped forward to talk with Théoden.

It was so much a part of being something huge to be perched on Sador among the hundreds of men waiting around her. It really felt as though they were preparing the cavalry for the apocalypse and just thinking of a term that was so unique to use in Rohan made her smirk slightly.

"Tell me, Théoden, how long will it be until the Rohirrim are made ready for war?" Aragorn asked, his arms folded before him. None of the others with the exception of Halbarad had an inkling of what the Ranger was speaking of, yet Buffy fidgeted slightly on Sador's back, feeling somewhat guilty that she was able to share in such intimate knowledge without the rest of his Fellowship involved. "I have heard strange words and there are newer, darker perils far off. I am now troubled in mind and must ask you how long 'ere you come to Dunharrow?"

"It will take three days by the mountains," Éomer replied curtly. "The muster shall begin as soon as the moon passes this night, but more speed we cannot make, for we must reach the end with the strength to fight."

Three days, Buffy thought to herself. It had been three days since the battle, and still much had happened. It would certainly take three days just to get to another stronghold? Edoras was a full day's ride away… certainly they could reach this armory faster. She was beginning to think that staying with the Rohirrim was made in error, considering that she was rather stronger than they were, and choosing to approach battle with fervor instead of caution was her way.

Aragorn glanced up, his face much less troubled. "Three days and I fear the muster of Rohirrim would have just only begun. I see now that my decision lies clearly before me." He straightened slightly and bowed at the waist to the King before rising, looking far less concerned. "Then, by your leave, my Lord, I shall take new counsel for myself and my kindred. I will ride east and I will take the Paths of the Dead."

The men around her began murmuring at this revelation, making Sador uneasy and making Buffy feel rather uncomfortable. They were just half-Zombie-spirits that were supposedly cursed until they could do something to repay such a debt, right? What dishonor was there in that? She thought it was rather courageous of Aragorn to stand up to the King of Rohan and speak his mind in such a way, especially as they were about to make a three-day journey into the hills to get the rest of the army waiting for them.

"That gate remains in Dunharrow," the King said, nodding slowly. "Yet the Paths of the Dead are treacherous. No living man has been able to pass."

"They will answer to one alone," Aragorn said, lowering his eyes. "This is now my path and this journey I must now take. I shall take my leave of you and wish you well, for we shall meet again."

"Alas, Aragorn," Éomer said, his tone distraught, "I had hoped that we should ride to war together, but if you seek the Paths of the Dead, then our time to part has come and I shall never see you again under the light of the sun."

"This path I must assume nonetheless," Aragorn replied, "but perhaps we will still meet again in battle, Éomer, with the host of Mordor between us."

Well, at least he was rather optimistic about his chances, Buffy thought dryly as she rode forward to stand before them. It was then she got her first good look at the twin Elves, who eyed her with curiosity. She caught herself staring intently at them for a moment before tearing her gaze away, her cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink.

"You will do so as you will, my Lord Aragorn," the King replied. "My strength is lessened at this parting, but perhaps if all you say will come, we shall meet again. Farewell!"

"Farewell, my Lords," Aragorn said, stepping aside. "Farewell, Merry! We will leave you in the safety of good hands! Legolas and Gimli will still hunt with me, I hope, but you will not be forgotten!" His eyes met Buffy's and they exchanged a silent look of understanding before she nodded and turned Sador about.

Théoden turned to Éomer and gave the order for the riders to move out. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he let out one loud cry and the Riders turned about, preparing to head through the Coomb. The ground began to tremble as five hundred horses (and one small white pony) rode through the Dike and the Coomb before crossing the river and turning to the east.

It wasn't the hardest ride, Buffy decided as she dropped towards the rear, her fair golden hair blowing in her eyes as she caught the last sight of the Deep before it disappeared completely from view.

And then a thought, one foreign in nature, entered her mind: _what if she never saw the Keep again?_

Forcing the thought from her mind, she continued to keep pace with the relatively skilled Rohirrim before she was completely left behind.

- - - - -

The Grey Company, as Aragorn's group came to be named, passed quickly through the plains and approached Dunharrow the following night. Éowyn was waiting for them as they entered camp, and her face brightened when she saw Aragorn leading the smaller group inside, while hundreds of pairs of eyes followed their every movement. Her eyes scanned the group, as though looking for something she didn't see.

"Did she not come with you?" Éowyn asked as Aragorn dismounted, signaling for the others to do the same.

Aragorn knew who she spoke of immediately; there was only one woman foolish enough to ride with a battalion of men, and that was Merilin. "She rides with your Uncle and you will see her in a day's time."

"I feared the worst when they said she had gone into battle," Éowyn replied, clearly distraught. "Our accommodations were not made ready, but if you choose to wait, better housing can be prepared for tomorrow's night."

"I have a swift errand I must see to," he replied. "If we may rest tonight, we will leave come dawn tomorrow, for we have no time to lose."

"Then it is kindly done, my Lord," she said, smiling up at him. "You have come many miles from your path to bring word to me."

"No man would ever count that journey to be wasted," he replied, smiling down at her. "I would still have come, for there is a road that lies beyond Dunharrow I must take."

"But, lord, there is no other road besides that to the south," Éowyn protested mildly.

"There is one road," Aragorn replied, as the rest of the Rangers, Legolas, Gimli and the sons of Elrond passed him by to enter the dining tent at the request of yet another woman of court. "Tomorrow come dawn I shall take the road of the Dimholt and ride by the Paths of the Dead."

Éowyn's mild face grew tense with concern as she blanched. "But, lord, no one may pass through the roads and emerge alive! It is certain death to pass the Road of the Dimholt."

Aragorn followed her into the tent where the others sat silently, waiting for the King's niece to arrive. "It is the only road I must take," he said firmly as he sat, his eyes never leaving her face.

"But this is madness!" Éowyn exclaimed, dropping her fork on her plate with a resounding clank. "These are men of renown that you should be leading to war and not leading to their own deaths. Why not take them into battle beside my brother, for then all hearts should be gladdened!" She stood then, rushing from the tent in her pent-up emotions, embarrassed after losing control to such feminine need. She stopped outside the tent, her arms held helplessly at her sides as she tried to choke back the tears that threatened her control.

A single hand fell on her shoulder. It was all it took for the tears to begin, but they were no tears of anguish, but tears of frustration and anger. "My Lady," Aragorn said, taking her by the arm and leading her a small distance from the tent. "There is no madness here. I will take the Paths of the Dead alone if it is in my will. I do not ask these men to go to their deaths; they choose to from their own free will."

"You shall do your duty and I shall do what is in mine," she said, her voice a blank reflection of the frustration welling within her.

"Your duty is with your people," he said gently.

She spun on him and for the first time, he caught a hint of the rage burning like a fire within her. "You speak of duty as though I were some common dry-nurse!" she spat. "I am of the house of Eorl and that would make me a shield-maiden. I have waited long enough on my faltering feet to gain a sense of honor. Why should I be left behind to watch the Riders go and find beds and food for their return?"

"There may come a time when none return, and your renown will be asked for then," Aragorn replied.

"Yet you say in no uncertain terms that my place is within the house!" Éowyn retorted. "Would you suggest the same for Merilin, who rides with my Uncle and carries with her a tale of victory?"

"This is her destiny," Aragorn replied softly. "She did not choose this, as it was chosen for her."

"As it is for me," Éowyn said. "I can wield a sword and carry a shield. I fear neither pain nor death."

"What do you fear, my Lady?" Aragorn asked, rather amused. She obviously didn't fear him, for her rant had gone on long enough to ensure such.

"A cage," she whispered, the fire flickering in her eyes. "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valor has gone beyond recall and desire."

"You have no place in this war," Aragorn told her, his voice holding a hint of warning. "The road south brings nothing but needless death. You are still a daughter of Kings… a cage will not be your fate."

There were figures starting to emerge from the tent now, thanking her for her kindness and her care before disappearing into the night. She watched them go, a myriad of emotions spreading across her face. "They will go with you because they love you," she said softly, turning at last to face him. "They would not want you to face this darkness alone, and neither should I."

Turning, she walked away, her shoulders visibly relaxing when she knew he was out of view. Letting out a long breath, she felt the tears come and didn't even attempt to stop them.

When dawn came, Éowyn was waiting for them. She was clad in Rohirric armor to the waist and with her stood the other women of the court, their heads bowed in a great symbolic show of respect as Aragorn stepped up to her, his hand touching her face. "Farewell, Lady of Rohan," he said softly. "We shall meet again."

"Do not do this," she said, her eyes imploring his. "Do not throw your life in vain. Remain here and wait for the others that come."

"I cannot," he replied, pulling his hand away. "I must go and I ride now."

"I beg of you," she said, tracking his steps as he approached his own stallion, Roheryn. "You cannot abandon the men."

"The men are not abandoned," Aragorn told her. "They still have one of considerable strength that will not rest until she sees this world freed of darkness, if it will come to her death."

Éowyn closed her eyes and looked away. Aragorn saw the expression on her face and turned back to her. "Éowyn… do not waste all of your tears on this. There will come a day when—"

"I must go," she said, interrupting him as she took a step away. "If you do not know my reason for being here, than I surely have no reason to remain." With a small sigh, she turned, her skirts lifting as she hurried towards the arch leading from the stables.

"I know what it is you seek," he said to her back. She paused as he approached.

"Let me ride with you," she said, not looking at him. "Let me ride and show you I am able to be of renown and glory! Let me prove my love…" She turned to him, wishing for him to see her determination and her courage that burned ever so brightly in her eyes. It was apparent when she saw the look on his face; the one about to stab rejection into her very heart that she knew this resolve was defeated.

"Nay," Aragorn replied, reaching out to touch her face. He carefully considered his next words as his fingers brushed her trembling cheek. "Since I first saw you, I wished you all of the joy that would come into your life. But I cannot give you what you seek."

She took a step back and he felt his own heart lighten despite the look of deep disappointment across her face. He turned away, not seeing the stricken tears in her eyes. She was still standing there when the Riders rode past, and until the last glimpse, she was still standing in the archway, looking as though the world had finally reached its end.

- - - - -

The second night was the most difficult night for Buffy. After a full day's ride with little rest the night before, she was ready to collapse on anthills if she could. When the night was finally full and the moon was waning overhead, Théoden gave the order to make camp for the night and Buffy eagerly pulled out her blanket, ready to settle down in the rather rocky hills for a good, long sleep.

But it was not to be. After only two hours she was shaken awake by the young Hobbit and, in a rather foul temper, she hastily got back onto Sador. The men were wise to avoid her as they continued their slow ride across many dales and crossing the many streams.

Merry seemed perfectly content to be as foul-tempered as she was. Realizing it was also partially her fault considering Merry had lost all of his traveling companions; she swore that she herself would not be one of them. The men did take the time to speak with her, especially those she'd known since Helm's Deep. They were rather fascinating to get to know, and she found herself intrigued by many stories. But it was that late night that she rode up to Stybba and to Merry, who looked at her through sleepy eyes.

"They're really playing slave drivers, aren't they?" she asked sympathetically. Merry, not having a clue what a slave-driver was, simply nodded and yawned. "You know," she added, slowly, "you really don't strike me as the silent type."

"It is rather strange with no one to talk to," Merry replied. "My thoughts keep wandering back to my friends. I wonder where Pippin would have gone, and what would become of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Lastly my thoughts would come to Frodo and Sam who have the most important quest of us all, but I seem to have forgotten them."

"It's not easy to be forgotten, is it?" she asked, recalling with a fading amount of bitterness her friend's estrangement just weeks before (or years ahead). "If you want someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I could use a story or two to keep me awake. From what I've heard, you're full of them. So, come, tell me a story."

Many hours passed and soon they were riding into the sunlight, splashing across another stream. Buffy was now riding up next to the King, having left Merry in far better spirits before they had crossed. Éomer rode behind them and was running a commentary on the landscape as they passed through the different locales. In the distance, under the failing sunlight, there were many fires on the horizon.

"Our journey is ending," Théoden told her as they continued the slow ride up the hills. "Snowbourne is there," he added, pointing to a large mountain top in the distance. "That is where Rohan's great armory is held."

"It looks like a postcard," Buffy commented, her eyes on the scenery in the distance.

It wasn't but another hour before there was a great cry and a small group of guards came forward, crying, "Théoden King! Théoden King! The King of the Mark returns!"

Théoden held up his hand in welcome as one of the guards blew a great horn and the sound reverberated through the entire valley. As they cleared the crest of the hill, gaining nearly fifty riders and leaving fifty to stand guard behind, she saw, to her immense surprise, _thousands_ of tents and horses gathered on the plain. "Wow," she said softly under her breath.

"Indeed," Éomer said at her left elbow. She turned to look at him, his frame reflecting in the hundreds of fires lit around them as the King was welcomed by what seemed like every single group of men crowding around the fires. "You should see the view from above."

"Above…" she said, her voice hanging until she saw the long crisscross passageway leading up the side of the mountain. "Oh. We go up there?"

"If you are too frightened and wish to remain here, I am certain many would not argue," Éomer replied, riding ahead slightly.

"Are they worried I'll chop off their heads?" she asked in a soft, mock-sympathetic voice.

"They are more concerned with your voice," Éomer replied. "You speak far too much for a woman."

"Maybe it's because the only women you know are in the kitchen making endless perfect stews," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, when are you going to get over this whole submissive thing? I don't do little French maid."

"If we could only be so lucky," another guard said, riding up on her right.

Both men exchanged a small smile of triumph as she sighed in frustration and rode ahead, much to the curiosity of the thousands watching her move. Where had she come from, and since when did women ride with the King's company who were not in his family, as many of the royal women who were considered kin were already on top of Snowbourne waiting his arrival?

They continued their slow climb up the steep hill, zigzagging back and forth, Sador following the other horses willingly, the King still riding in the front.

When they came over the crest of the last slope, they came upon an encampment. Along side the road were women who were bowing respectively to their King and his First Marshal. At the head of them, nearest the first series of tents, was Éowyn. When she saw them, she bore a small smile. She was clad in Rohirric armor to the waist and also carried a sword.

"Hail, Lord of the Mark!" she called, slowly and dramatically as a great cheer went around the smaller encampment as the kindred knights came forward to welcome. Buffy noticed that of all the soldiers they had ridden with, only a few remained. She dismounted Sador and handed her horse to one of the women stepping forward for her, her hands outstretched. Sador tossed her head and turned to Buffy, as though asking why her owner would give her up so easily again.

"We'll ride soon again, my friend," Buffy promised Sador, rubbing her horse and nuzzling her one last time before pulling back. Theoden was continuing to talk to Éowyn.

"Is all well with you?" Théoden asked his niece, who stood there patiently, waiting for the others to come forward.

"All is well," she replied, and Buffy looked at her closely. Éowyn looked brave for the sake of standing before twenty knights, a woman and a Hobbit, who was still struggling off of Stybba. But at a second glance, she looked as though she'd had a good, heartfelt cry. "All is well," she repeated, as though trying to convince herself of the same. "All has now been ordered, as you see. The Riders are arriving and will ready to move at your command. Your lodging has been prepared for you, for I was told that you would be coming."

"So Aragorn has come then?" Éomer asked, glancing around, as though hoping the Ranger would spring from one of the tents with his usual dour expression. "Is he still here?"

Buffy immediately knew the answer. It was the only reason that could explain why Éowyn, one of the strongest women she knew, would break down and weep. "No, he has gone," she said, lifting a trembling hand to gesture to the south, where the dark mountains lurked in the distance. "He has gone towards the Dwimorberg."

"Tell me," Théoden said, "did he speak of that road?"

"Yes," Éowyn replied, as many around her exchanged a dark glance, "he spoke of the Paths of the Dead."

"So, he's gone," Buffy said, stepping forward. "He decided to go anyway."

"I tried to dissuade him," Éowyn said, glancing at her. "He would not hearken to me."

And this, Buffy believed, was the reason why Éowyn was behaving as such. "I'm sorry," Buffy said softly.

"It is not your fault," Éowyn replied, turning back to Théoden.

"You are grieved, my daughter," Théoden said, gazing more intently into the eyes of his niece. "Are you certain that all is well?"

Éowyn hesitated at this answer and Buffy knew it was her turn to intervene.

"I'll take care of that," Buffy said quickly, rushing forward and taking Éowyn's arm. The taller woman stared at her in disbelief, but Buffy kept her smile stoically on her face. "We'll see you at dinner. For now, we need to have what you males might call tea time."

Éowyn again hesitated but saw that she wasn't going to win out. Buffy's eyes were rather stern and her grip was quite painful and before she knew it, the woman was being dragged sideways away from the guards making their way towards their tents.

"Here's the thing," Buffy said, once they finally reached a small area between tents where they could talk without being overheard. "You may be able to fool your Uncle and your brother, but you can't fool me. I've been through more than you can imagine, and I know he said something to you."

Éowyn didn't have to ask who Buffy meant. All she could do was slowly shake her head. "He could not give me what I sought," she said, her voice small and defeated. "I offered myself to serve with him, and he would not take my hand. I… I asked him to stay behind to fight with my brother, by his side where he belongs and he refused."

"Éowyn," Buffy said gently, reaching for the other woman. "You have to understand –"

"He told me he wished me all the joy in my life since he first saw my face," Éowyn said, glancing at Buffy and meeting her intense gaze. "He did not want what I could give him."

"You didn't want him though, did you?" Buffy asked softly, stroking the woman's arm in comfort. "You wanted what he stood for. You want to go and fight in a stupid war and die in a blaze of glory, I can't blame you for wanting that! But you have to realize that you're better than that. Sure, you've been born into a family of fighters and your destiny is waiting for you out there someplace. I can't blame you for wanting that, but before you go off to war and prepare to die the most painful way possible, you have to find yourself first."

"What of you?" Éowyn asked softly. "You fight because Aragorn spoke of your destiny. Have you found yourself first?"

"This is what I am," Buffy replied. "I was born and this is what I am. I'm not some delicate little kitchen-maid as your brother keeps insisting I should be."

"You have spoken with my brother?" Éowyn asked.

"Many, many times," Buffy said, deadpanning. "I can't decide whether or not I like him or if I want to hurt him really, really painfully."

Éowyn's gaze was stronger now and the tears were gone. A small smile played around her lips. "Perhaps you have found a home with my people."

"I'm a human being," Buffy said with a shrug. "I adapt well. You're a human being, and friendship is born."

"This is not what I speak of," Éowyn replied.

Buffy suddenly understood what Éowyn meant. "Oh, no! You can't possibly think that I… that he… oh, no! And a hundred thousand more after that… that's just…"

"I think you protest too much," Éowyn said, stepping around Buffy and heading back towards the camp, leaving Buffy with her rather alarming thoughts.

Dinner that night turned out to be an interesting affair. Buffy was asked to sit at the King's table and did so, feeling rather uncomfortable. Merry did most of the talking, but chose the unfortunate topic of the Paths of the Dead, inquiring where Aragorn had gone.

"We do not know where the Lord Aragorn has gone, and for this our hearts are heavy," Éomer said, setting down his goblet and turning to regard the Hobbit. "As for the Paths of the Dead, you have taken your first steps, as beyond this encampment lies the road of the Dimholt and the Dwimorberg mountain. What lies beyond that no man knows."

"Legend speaks of a door on the Dwimorberg," Théoden said quietly, glancing at his plate. "Men pass a stony road and take the door under the mountain, but what becomes of them, no living man can say, for none have returned."

"It's just so like him," Buffy said, laying down her fork. "Could he pick a more dangerous place?"

"I agree with you," Merry said, glancing at her. "But why would he go that way?"

"Obviously he does have a death wish," Buffy murmured, returning to her dinner.

"Greatly changed he seemed to me since I first saw him in Edoras," Éowyn said softly, glancing down at the table. "He seemed grimmer and older."

Buffy, recalling the experience of Aragorn wrestling with an oversized marble shuddered and pulled her cloak tighter around her as a cool breeze swept through the dining tent.

"Perhaps he was called to take this road," Théoden said thoughtfully. "Yet my heart tells me I shall not see him again. He is a kingly man with a high destiny, my daughter. If any man can fulfil this journey, he would be the one that many would trust the most."

"He'll do it," Buffy said, her eyes meeting Éowyn's. "He'll find what he's looking for and something good will come of it."

"How do you know this?" Éowyn asked, her voice still lost in the grief despite the fact she'd resigned herself not to weep anymore.

"It's what he does," Buffy replied. "If he feels that he can talk to a psychotic zombie ghost-spirits, I'd say more power to him."

Before anyone else could respond, there was the sound of shouting and loud talking outside. The King straightened in his chair and Éomer made the move to stand up, but Buffy put up her hand. "I'll check it out. You, sit."

Turning, she disappeared out of the tent, her cloak fluttering as she was swallowed by the darkness. Amidst the many male voices, a single female voice inquired about the noise. From what they could hear inside the King's dining tent, someone was approaching that hadn't stopped to speak to the many, many Rohirrim below.

As Théoden told Merry the tale of the King that had gone to the mountain, Buffy swept forward towards the sharp drop-off leading into the valley below. Many fires flickered in the deepening twilight as she reached the edge rather quickly. A few of the guards had come with her, as though questioning why she had come and not a Marshal. But, then again, she had come out of the King's tent, so a friend she must be.

Her eyes sought out what she'd been looking for immediately. A single horse was halfway up the steep criss-crossing path.

"Do you have a sword?" she asked the guard standing over her right shoulder.

"Aye," he replied.

"Good," she said, smiling up at him. "I might need it in a bit."

"You wish to use _my_ sword?" the guard asked. "This sword has been in my family for—"

"I never said I was going to run off with it," Buffy replied testily, her eyes narrowing as she stared down the sharp drop. "I'm just saying that if I start screaming down there, drop it, okay?"

These had to be the strangest orders the poor man had ever received. "I trust that you would—"

"I'll give it back," she snapped, turning to face him. And then, with a parting smile, she said, "Wish me luck!"

Turning, she ran to the edge, not stopping as she dropped down the other side.

There were sharp gasps as men quickly ran over to the side, peering down in the darkness, not seeing if she'd even fell onto anything solid before tumbling a thousand feet to a gruesome death below.

Buffy landed on the edge near one of the stout little statues, crouched low to the ground as she moved slowly along the path before dropping onto the next diagonal. The figure was turning uphill below her and she moved forward so that she could be seen easily, as not to scare the horse into tumbling both it and its rider over the side of the mountain.

It was another few, silent minutes before she actually saw the figure sitting on the horse in clear view. She stepped forward and when he spied her, he gasped. The horse he was riding reared and nearly toppled sideways. Buffy moved forward swiftly and took the flying reins, holding them tightly in her hands as the horse seemed to calm down at her presence, seeing that she wasn't something about to attack it.

"What madness is this?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Buffy could swear she could hear his heart beating from where she stood, rubbing the horse's nose gently. "It's called a welcoming party," she replied with a smirk. "I'm the one making sure you're not some mad axe murderer."

"You are but a woman," he said, his eyes narrowed as he scanned her face in the darkness.

She sighed dramatically, tossing the reins back towards the rider. "Come on," she said stoutly, walking in front of him. "I should have known it'd be one of you Rohirrim trying to scare everyone half to death."

"I'm not of Rohan," he said clearly, enjoying the way she seemed to pause and turn slowly back to face him.

"You're not," she replied. It wasn't a question. It was a deadpanned statement.

"I come from Gondor," the man replied. "I have a message for your King."

"He's not my King," Buffy replied. "Well, I suppose he is… but I'm not from Rohan either."

"We are both strangers on this road in some distant land," the man replied, bowing his head towards her. "Tell me, what purpose does frightening a man to his death serve on the eve of battle?"

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead all ready," she replied, continuing on. "Come on… you're already taking forever… I never thought you'd ever get to the top."

Once they'd finally reached the top, the man dismounted his horse, hurrying after the woman continuing directly towards the line of tents in the near distance. "You never spoke your name," he said, finally coming to her side.

"It's… not important," she said, ignoring this fact. "You're from Gondor?"

"Yes," the man replied, pulling something from his cloak. She paused, her hands poised to strike, until she saw it was a black arrow. "I wanted to make certain it was still in place."

"Oh, right," Buffy replied, turning about. "What's with the arrow?"

"The arrow is a symbol of the unity between Rohan and Gondor in times of war," the man replied. "I have come as a messenger for the Steward, Denethor. I come to speak to your King."

"We've been through this," Buffy said patiently. "Not my King, but I still follow him."

"Who are you?" the man inquired, watching as she moved. She was quick on her feet and she spoke as though nothing could bother her. At first impression, she gave the aura of dottiness, but at this second impression, he saw that these guards respected her as they lowered their arms and nodded at her. For some reason, she had joined with these Rohirrim and they seemed to recognize her.

Buffy's face showed recognition, but she said nothing. They reached the King's dining tent and the guards immediately stood, their swords aimed into the darkness. When they saw Buffy leading a young man forward, they bowed and stepped away.

"He's safe, don't worry," she told them. To the man, she added, "Stay here."

She ducked inside the tent as the others turned to face her. Their plates were clear and they looked ready to head off to bed. "There is a messenger here to see you," she said calmly. "He's from Gondor."

"See him in," the King said, rising to his feet as the others at the table did the same. Buffy nodded and ducked back out of the tent.

"Come on," she said to him for a third time. "He's waiting."

Giving her an odd look, he swept past her as she held open the flap before following him in and standing by his side. When his eyes fell upon Théoden, he smiled with relief and moved to Théoden's side, dropping down to one knee and holding out the black arrow. In this light, Buffy could see that the tip was painted a bright, blood-red.

"I bring word to you from Denethor," he said, as Théoden took the arrow with a trembling hand. ""Hirgon am I, errand-rider of Denethor. I bring to you now the Red Arrow, for now is our direst hour of need. Rohan has often aided us and now Lord Denethor asks for all of your strength and all of your speed, lest Gondor fall at last."

"What tidings do you bring?" Éomer asked him, staring down hard at this young man on his knee. Hirgon nodded before rising to both feet. Glancing at the woman still standing at his side, he turned back to Théoden, looking uncertain about speaking so openly in front of two women.

"These women are of my house, and if you speak plainly to me, you may speak it before them," Théoden said quietly. "Merilin has ridden under the guidance of the White Wizard and has brought counsel to me in dark times."

Hirgon turned to regard her in a new light, for he had seen this Gandalf riding and had heard news of his tidings.

"Very well," he replied, turning back to face the King of Rohan. "Many enemies are moving to strike the city of Minas Tirith. It is before these walls that the great doom of our time will be decided. If we do not strike there with haste, then the last of the free lands will fall."

"Dark tidings, indeed," Théoden said, frowning as he gazed at the table before pacing slightly. "Rohan will answer the call of Gondor, but we must look to our own borders. I can promise no more than six thousand, for I must protect my own cities. We have already suffered much loss, as well, as Saruman took many from our numbers." He turned towards Buffy then. "It is a long road, and men and beast must reach the end with the strength to fight."

"How long until the forces of Rohan are ready to ride to the city and to the aid of Gondor?" Hirgon asked.

"Two days," Buffy said, before Théoden could answer. "We ride the day after tomorrow for war."

"My counsel has spoken," Théoden replied, nodding at Hirgon. "Éowyn," he continued. "Fetch this man a plate and give him lodgings for tonight. In the morning, we shall give him a new horse. I retire for the night, and must bid farewell to you all."

After Théoden had left, many of the others walked out as well, leaving Buffy and Éowyn alone in the tent with one guard and Hirgon of Gondor. Éowyn quickly fixed him a plate and handed it to him.

"You must hasten to our aide," Hirgon said to Buffy as she took the seat across from him, taking her own half-eaten plate. "I fear the city will be razed to the ground before Rohan could answer."

"Rohan will be ready," she replied, picking up her fork. "You have my word, man of Gondor."

He nodded. "The word of a woman is the most truthful, if nothing else. It is good to know that you serve the King of Rohan."

"It is," she replied, turning her attention to her plate. Éowyn waited until they were finished before the company left the tent behind. Éowyn showed Hirgon to his lodgings before turning back to Buffy, but a figure had already come out of the darkness and she paused, recognizing her brother's frame.

Buffy glanced up when she saw him. "Oh, I'm so not in the mood to argue with you right now," she said, shaking her head and holding up her hand, hoping he would take the hint and walk away.

He did not.

"How could you speak to that man without seeking first the will of the King?" Éomer asked her quietly, not wanting to provoke her further.

"Were you about to tell him it would take us a week to get there?" Buffy asked impatiently. "He looked about two seconds from breaking down completely. The last thing we need is a psychotic guy from Gondor pestering us about hastening and making way and preparing the coming and whatever else he could pester us about."

"That was still unwise," he replied, but his voice had lost its edge.

"No one said I was perfect," Buffy sighed, finally closing her fist and pulling it back to her side. "I think I need to sleep for a few hours before I can think logically again."

As she walked past him, he reached out and touched her arm. "Sleep well," he said quietly.

"Thanks," she replied, taken aback by this rare moment of kindness. "You too," she added, before walking away.

Éowyn caught up with her as she reached the line of sleeping tents.

"I set your armor and your weapons inside my tent," Éowyn said quickly, pulling her towards an elaborate white tent and leading the younger woman inside. A single light lit the dim interior, but there were two pallets on the floor, both set with blankets and throws.

"Thanks," Buffy said, unclasping her cloak and setting it over the back of her armor. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep now."

"Of course," Éowyn said, bowing her head. "I will see you come morning."

Buffy didn't have the energy left to answer her as she sat down on the edge of one of the boards, undoing her boots before she rolled onto her back. Even though she was sleeping on a stack of wood, it was as comfortable as a feather mattress. Before her mind could begin to process all she had taken in since her arrival to this mountain, she was fast asleep.

- - - - -

In the next part, the Rohirrim ride for war as Gondor prepares for the latest siege as the war begins.

In the part after that, the Rohirrim ride to the aide of Gondor as Aragorn prepares to return to his city in need of its King. Following that part, this story will have finally reached its halfway point.


	14. Into the Woods

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: I do thank you for taking the time to read this story. I would like to ask you for your opinion however, now that we are nearing the halfway point of the story. This story has been a year in the making and is quite dear to both my co-author and myself. Your reviews and opinions are welcome, but just so you know, I tend to take criticism badly. I am just one of those people whose egos tend to bruise a little easier than others, I guess. I think it is because I spent far too much time alone as a child instead of with my brothers.

Chapter Summary: The Rohirrim ride to a war that has already begun.

Chapter Warning: This is definitely a book-worthy chapter. I adore this chapter in the books, but, alas… it belongs to Mr. Tolkien, one of my three British lords of the pen. Also, my apologies for this chapter being so late as everyone in my family, including myself, has fallen ill with the flu. It has come to the point where my mother has come to watch over us. I did want to do a few productive things today and this is one of them. The next chapter of my other story will be posted once I am feeling a little better as it still needs to go through the editing process.

- - - - -

**Chapter 14**

**Into the Woods**

_By Katrina Claire_

- - - - -

The city of Minas Tirith seemed to at last awaken as small forces came in from the distant lands. Pippin stood beside Bergil, son of Beregond, one of the guards of Faramir, a captain of Gondor. The first to arrive were the men from Lossarnach, led by Forlong and greatest of them all were the ones who had just passed, Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Even as the Prince and his grand knights passed by on horseback, they drew long paths of dust that rose and fell as the winds swept across the valley.

There were less than three thousand in total. Their cries and the sounds of their horns died away as they passed through the city gates. The cheers soon died out as more scanned the valley for others, but no more would come.

After they returned back to the city, Pippin took his leave, returning to the Citadel for his guard. Even with the distance from the edge of the city, he saw the dark clouds gathering beyond the city walls. His thoughts drew onwards towards better things, such as dinner, and he hurried off to the mess.

He met Beregond there, who sat by his side to await Pippin's news on his son. Once they had finished eating, Pippin stayed for awhile, wishing he could see Gandalf.

When he left, darkness had settled. He found his way through the dimness to his lodging and stepped inside, glancing around for Gandalf. Instead, he found a dark room ready for resting, and Pippin gladly took this rest, despite his motivation to find Gandalf.

In the night he was awakened by a light. Rising, Pippin saw Gandalf pacing to and fro, his brow furrowed in thought, muttering under his breath. He appeared that he was questioning Faramir's intentions on whether or not he would return to Minas Tirith.

Pippin slipped around the edge of a curtain, drowsy and disheveled. "I thought you had forgotten all about me," he said. "I am glad to see you back. It has been a long day."

Gandalf turned to him, frowning slightly. "But the night will be too short," he said heavily. "I have come back here to think for awhile and to find some peace alone. You should sleep if you can. When the summons comes, you will return to Lord Denethor, but it will not be at sunrise. The Darkness has begun." His frown deepened as he stared out of the archway into the darkness. "There will be no dawn."

- - - -

Buffy was awakened on the second morning by the sound of voices. She lifted her head from her makeshift pillow and slowly got to her feet. It was still dark outside when she poked her head through the tent, pulling on her cloak. She was just fastening it when a figure emerged from the darkness. It was one of the guards.

"What's with the noise?" she asked grumpily, throwing the cape back behind her.

"It is morning and we will be riding out soon," the guard replied, giving her a stern look. "The King has been sending for you."

"Oh, good," Buffy replied, and with a quick goodbye headed towards the King's tent. Éowyn was standing outside, waiting for her.

"You have come? A second errand-rider from Gondor has come," Éowyn said in a rushed tone of voice.

"And you didn't let me intimidate him?" Buffy asked in a mock-injured voice as she reached the edge of the tent. "You take away all my fun."

"I would hardly consider a man bringing tidings of war to be part of your amusement," Éowyn chastised, but she was smiling.

Buffy just gave her a quick smile before ducking inside the tent.

The previous day had been spent mostly in Éowyn's company, as far away from the grubby riders as she could get. Of course, walking around watching someone change bedcovers and clean armor wasn't exactly exciting, but it gave them ample opportunity to bond a bit more.

Buffy felt well-rested and relaxed. But her mood instantly changed when she saw the group of men inside the tent.

It was even darker inside, with two small lights set in the middle of the table. When they saw her, everyone in the tent lapsed into an uneasy silence.

"I think that this was the wrong time," Buffy said, her voice falling off. "I'll be out… there."

But before she could leave, she heard someone calling her name. At first, she didn't respond to "Merilin", but she finally turned back.

"I would expect my counsel to be here at this time," Théoden said, moving around the two errand-riders and extended his hand towards her. She took a deep breath and moved into the circle of men, not glancing at the circle of Marshals and Captains standing around the large tent.

"I'm here," Buffy said quickly. "I'm just not really awake yet… what is… what is all of this?"

Éomer chose to be the one to speak up. "We move out this morning, or did you forget it was you who chose this day for us?"

"No, no," Buffy said, waving her hands impatiently. "Why did you wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?"

"It is past daybreak," one of the Captains replied, giving her a strange look.

"Really?" Buffy asked softly. "Why is it so dark?"

"We were about to be told," Théoden replied, turning to the second errand-rider standing besides Hirgon. "Speak."

"The darkness, my Lords, comes from Mordor," the second man said. He was somewhat shorter than the first, and broader in the shoulders. Buffy leaned against one of the posts, eyeing him warily, knowing the news he was about to bring would be bad. "It began last night at sunset. From the hills in the Eastfold of your realm I saw it come and creep across the sky, eating the stars as I rode on at night. Now a great cloud hangs over all of the land between here and the Mountains of Shadow, and it is deepening. War has already begun."

The King stood with his hands behind his back for a moment. At last he spoke. "So, we come to it in the end," he said softly, "the great battle of our time, in which many things shall pass away. We will ride the straightest and most open road and with all of our speed." He turned to Éomer then. "It is time… marshal the Riders."

He nodded and turned to the other leaders who rose and left the tent in tow. Great horns rang out close by and soon were answered by the horns from below.

The King continued issuing orders until only he, Buffy and the two errand-riders from Gondor remained.

"We must return to Minas Tirith with news of your arrival," Hirgon said.

"Merilin," Théoden said, turning to the young woman still loitering near the entrance. "Would you see to it these men are given fresh horses before they take their leave?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, waving the two men forward. "I'll take care of it."

Merry was waiting outside with Éowyn when the King appeared on the heels of his counsel and their two guests, who hurried in the direction of the makeshift stables. Éowyn gave her Uncle a nod before turning and walking off after the younger woman, leaving the Hobbit with the King.

"I am going to war, Master Meriadoc," he said. "I release you from my service, but not from my friendship. You shall abide here, and if you will, you shall serve the Lady Éowyn who will govern the folk in my stead."

"But, but…" Merry protested. "I offered you my sword. I do not want to be parted from you like this. All of my friends have gone into battle; I would be ashamed to be left behind."

"It is five days ride to Minas Tirith, and none of my riders can bear you as a burden." The King took in the determined face of the Hobbit and he gently stepped forward, clasping the Hobbit's shoulder. "I shall say no more."

The King moved away to prepare his things as Buffy and Éowyn returned. "Come now, Merry," Éowyn said, moving forward and wrapping an arm over the Hobbit's shoulders. "I will show you the gear I have had prepared for you. This was the only request Lord Aragorn had, and I do wish to see it through."

Buffy watched as they both walked along the line of tents before ducking back inside the tent she shared with Éowyn. She quickly dressed in her tunic and trousers before pulling on her armor. The horns were ringing again as she stepped out, dragging her entire arsenal behind her.

"There," Éowyn said, watching as Merry pulled on the tiny helmet she'd found for him. "A true esquire of Rohan."

Merry took up the shield she'd handed him, fit for a Dwarf, but bearing the white horse of Rohan. He gave it a little spin and smiled up at her. She sighed and glanced at him. "We have no mail to fit you, and a sword you already have."

He noticed the look on her face as he continued to play with his new things. "Come," she said, as an afterthought. "Let us see the others off."

Merry skipped ahead as Éowyn hung back, her brother approaching from his own tent, clad in his own armor. "You should not encourage him," he said as he came up beside her.

"You should not doubt him," she said, turning to glare at her older brother. "Merry has as much cause to go to war as any of you. Why can he not fight for those he loves?"

"You know as little of war as that Hobbit," Éomer replied coolly. "When the fear takes him and the blood and the screams and the horrow of battle take hold, do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee. And he would be right to do so. War is the province of Men, Éowyn."

"What of her?" Éowyn asked him as they watched Buffy stalk across the camp, barking out orders. "Would you say the same to her?"

Éomer hesitated and his sister gave a small smile of triumph. "She fights because she must," he finally offered. "She would have it no other way."

Éowyn watched as her brother moved off after the younger woman. "Maybe she too fights for those she loves," she said softly.

Buffy was adding her weaponry to Sador's saddle when Éomer caught up with her, his own horse in tow. "Are we ready to go?" she asked crisply.

"The men are beginning to move down to the valley," he replied, watching with some amusement at the number of sharp objects hanging from the saddle of Buffy's horse. "Do you intend to use all of those?"

"Yeah," she said absentmindedly, adding her sword at last to the stash. "It's better to have a variety."

"Your horse will tire quickly," Éomer replied.

"I'm light-weight, so it'll be the same as one of you riding her," Buffy said cheerfully as she mounted Sador and the horse clanked away to join in the long queue slowly making their way down the hill. She glanced left to see that Éomer was riding up beside her, and beyond that was Merry, standing in his partial armor, his sword at his side, looking forlorn. She truly wished she could take him with her, but she felt that was pushing it a bit too far.

Merry stood watching as the horses disappeared one-by-one down the slope. He was turning to go back to the tents when a hand came out of nowhere and clasped his shoulder. "Where will wants not, a way opens," a voice said softly in his ear. "Will you ride me with?"

Merry thought the voice sounded familiar, but he was far too grateful to accept such an offer than inquire this stranger's identity. "I will."

Two hours later, many thousands stood gathered before their Lord in the half-light. Buffy rode to the front, her eyes staring at the group around her. The King came forward and with him was Éomer and the rest of his guards, almost a hundred men. Buffy silently urged Sador to ride with them as Éomer started the call.

"Form up! Move out!" he cried as they rode amongst the lines of men. "Form up! Move out!"

"Ride now to Gondor!" Théoden added as his own guard swept forward, the thousands of riders following behind. Among the first in line was the rider bearing the Hobbit, and more speed they gathered as they rode towards the mountains, splashing across the river.

- - - -

There was a great dark cloud moving over the city of Minas Tirith. Along the great walls, Gondorians were gathering and testing the armaments, walking back and forth between the towers on the outer wall. In the distance, a great rumble sounded. The air was brown and heavy, and even as Pippin stood along the wall, staring into the darkness, he felt as though he would rather be anywhere but here.

Beregond stood beside him, staring out into the gloom.

"You are weary this day?" Beregond asked him after a moment of silent reflection.

"Yes," Pippin replied. "I am tired with the idleness and waiting. I have kicked my heels at the door of my master's chamber for many slow hours while he has debated with his captains and Gandalf. I am not used to waiting on such great men, and I should feel the honor more deeply. But what is the good of such honor? What is the good of anything under this creeping shadow? What does it mean? Is this often the weather of such gloom when the wind comes from the east?"

"This is no weather of this world," Beregond said softly. "This is some device of malice, some broil of fume he sends from the Mountain of Fire to darken our hearts and counsel. And so it should be, as it seems. I wish the Lord Faramir would return. He would not be dismayed."

"Yes," Pippin replied. "Gandalf, too, is anxious. Where has he gone to? He left the Lord's Council before the end, and in no good mood, either."

Their thoughts were cut off by the emergence of an even greater darkness, one that seemed to strike all of the men on the wall dumb. They stared with starting eyes to five figures swooping out of archer's reach on the Pelennor fields below. Their cries were those piercing of hatred and power, and all that stood along the wall cowered.

"Look!" Beregond cried. "There are fell things below!"

The five figures circled and swooped as Pippin risked a look, his hands pressed over his ears. Even as the cries of the Nazgûl died away, there was the sound of a single horn.

"Faramir!" Beregond breathed. "That is his call…"

Even as the others watched, transfixed in horror, the five figures swept down upon the group of Riders coming in from the wall.

"Will no one come to save him?" Beregond demanded, turning away from the wall. "Will no one go out to him?"

Pippin, cursing his fear, stared at the scene unfolding before his eyes, until, in the distance; a great white light appeared, riding out behind the others. "Gandalf," he breathed. "Gandalf! It is the White Rider!" At his voice, many others came forward, breathing out his name as they watched, as though spectators of a great arena sport.

One of the five wheeled towards this newcomer, but it seemed to Pippin that Gandalf raised his hand and a piercing white light filled the brown gloom. The Nazgûl gave a long, wailing cry and swerved away; and with that the other four wavered before rising and speeding towards the east.

For a short while, the light from the fields seemed to brighten before it all started to fade away and hope began to wane again in every heart.

- - - -

The second day was the hardest to travel, Buffy decided. It was too dark to see much of anything, and that made it even more difficult. Telling time during a blackout was the biggest dilemma, at least in Buffy's opinion.

They had ridden overnight, driven by the need to cross the long plains to Gondor. They kept to the mountains, crossing over the smaller paths and streams. It was finally decided in the early morning that scouts needed to be sent out again.

Buffy rode up to Théoden and quickly dismounted, glancing around at the circle of men around her. They had finally decided on taking a short break since many were weary and despite the growing darkness, they kept moving. Buffy was surprised by their determination, and touched all the same.

"Are you sending out scouts?" Buffy asked him, reaching for the reins on his horse to hold him steady as the King smoothly dismounted.

"Yes," he replied, squinting at her. "Let me assume you wish to join them."

"I do," Buffy replied. "You need someone out there who can see, and I can see just fine. It'd be best if you had someone out there who can tell you when the baddies come before they kill your scouts."

"Perhaps you are correct," Théoden said slowly. "Perhaps it would be best if you were to join with the scouts."

"Then, it's settled!" Buffy said cheerfully, turning on her heel and pulling Sador behind her. In the valleys below, she could see great groups of men gathered by their cooking fires. She walked over to where the guards were gathered around a single fire and stooped low to warm her hands. She felt eyes on her, but she didn't turn. It was really odd to stand here among all of these men and feel as though she had some pull over them. But, for some reason, she did.

"Will you ride with us?" a voice asked behind her. She rose and turned to face three men mounted on steeds. She nodded and the three rode off. Making her way through the encampment, she found Sador grazing with other horses and gently stroked her mane.

"You up for a little scouting, girl?" she asked her horse softly as she mounted her, turning her about. As she moved, she felt the strangest sensation. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes strayed over the many men gathered over small cooking fires, all set about their own business. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought there was something there that shouldn't be there, but she could not see it. In the distance, there were more fires as more men came to their encampments. Shaking off the feeling, she turned and rode onwards.

The four riders cantered gracefully down the smooth rock before slowing to trudge up a rocky slope.

For hours they rode ahead, occasionally dividing into two groups. It was only when Buffy and a secondary scout came to an outcrop did she see something that made her blood turn to ice.

On their second day of scouting, they finally came across something other than smoke or haze to report.

There was a road in the valley, marching from the west. Sador tossed her head, backing away a few steps as Buffy worked to calm her before they were sighted. Long lines of Orcs marched to the swift beat of drummers. Flaming torches were held in the air and black flags rippled in the hurried breeze from the east. She drew in her breath, her hand tightening on the handle of her sword. The other scout rode up to her side. "Perhaps this is something we should report," he said quietly.

"We have to find another way to cross these mountains," she replied, "or we'll be dead before we even get to Gondor."

"My lady," he whispered, tapping her shoulder and gesturing towards the woods. She turned her head as a shadow disappeared within the trees.

She didn't dare call out. Handing the scout the reins for Sador, she dismounted, pulling out her sword as she disappeared into the darkness of the trees. After a moment of walking, she suddenly turned to her left, the tip of her sword caught near the head of a short, stout man who stared up at her. She released her breath but held her sword steady as she asked, "Who are you?"

A few minutes later, Buffy emerged from the trees. The scout was still peering at the endless lines of Orcs down below but turned at the rustle near him. He saw Buffy and with her was a man somewhat shorter than she was, with large arms and clad only with grass about the waist. "We need to go back," she told the scout.

"Who is that?" the scout asked, staring hard at the smaller man who waited as Buffy mounted Sador and turned the horse around.

"He's our ticket to Gondor," she replied, and left it at that. Together the three of them made their way back to the encampment, where Théoden was speaking to the other party of scouts. They had nothing to report from the east, but from the south, he feared, their news was dire. He knew he was correct the moment he saw the other two. Both slid gracefully from their mounts and came to Théoden, bearing one of the inhabitants of the mountains.

"The road to the south is blocked," she said, beckoning the smaller man forward. "Orcs are controlling it. They far outnumber us, and if we were attempt to cross that path, we'd never make it to Gondor. But, not everything is bad." She gave the smaller man a push. "I'd like you to meet someone I found lurking in the trees. He says he can help us get to Gondor without facing the Orcs."

"The only road is to the south and east," Éomer protested. "There is no other way."

"Then we'll make our own," Buffy told him, turning to the smaller man. "Why don't you tell him what you told me?"

The figure glanced up and even in the firelight they could see his bushy beard, his yellow teeth and his eyes, wild and dark. "I am Ghân-buri-Ghân from the Wild Men," he said, his voice hoarse and throaty.

Théoden stared at the smaller figure in thought. There had been talk that the Wild Men still haunted this forest. For the past two days, three groups of scouts had ridden ahead by their path through the mountains and until today, they hadn't learned much. The first group had reported back that there were great fires burning throughout Pelennor.

"Do you ride to war, Master Ghân?" he asked in his crisp tone, his eyes surveying the elder face set in stone before him. But the old man shook his head.

"No, father of the Horse-men," he said, "we fight now. Hunt only. We kill in the woods and hate orc-folk. We help as we can. We know all paths. Wild Men live here before Stone-houses; before Tall Men come up out of the water."

"But our need is for aid in battle," Éomer said. "How will you and your folk help us?"

"We bring news," said the Wild Man. "We look out from hills." Here, he exchanged a look with the taller woman standing slightly behind him, her gaze stern. "We climb big mountain and look down. The stone-city is shut. Fire burns there outside; now inside, too. You wish to come there? Then you must be quick. But gorgûn and men out of faraway," he gestured with his short, gnarled arm eastward, "they take the horse roads."

"That was what we had to report," said the scout from the other side of the Wild Man.

"Let Ghân-buri-Ghân finish," the Wild Man said, holding up his stumpy hand. "More than one road he knows. He will lead you by road where no orc-folk walk, only Wild Men and beasts. The road is forgotten. But not by Wild Men. We can show you that road. Then you will kill bad dark and Wild Men can go back to sleep in the wild woods."

Théoden exchanged a glance with Buffy and she nodded slowly. Turning to Éomer, the two spoke in their native tongue for a moment before Théoden straightened and turned back to the short, Wild Man. "We will receive your offer," he said.

"How long would it take to pass by the enemy and come back to the road?" Éomer asked. "We must go at foot-pace and I doubt not that the way is narrow."

"The road is wide for four horses to pass," the Wild Man replied. "It takes Wild Men from sunrise to noon to pass the road. Even now the sun is hidden to the east. We feel the sun even when she is hidden."

"Then we must set out as soon as we may," Éomer said grimly. "Even so, we cannot hope to come to Gondor's aid today."

"There's always tomorrow," Buffy said and his eyes met hers. She was wearing a hesitant smile as she walked past him. Théoden turned back to the Wild Man, leaving Éomer to give the orders that it was time to move out.

In the distance, a Hobbit moved away from the group, his eyes full of wonder at what he had just seen. Merry returned to Elfhelm's encampment, the last in the long line, and to Dernhelm, the rider he rode with. Even now he could see Dernhelm atop his horse, his hands twisting with anxiety as horns broke through the gloom. A haze began to creep over the camps, thick with the smell of burnt grass and wood.

With an hour, the host was ready to travel and began the arduous journey up the hills and across the rivers. The Wild Men had posted hunters to keep a wary eye out for stragglers in the Orc host. The light grew more dim as they drew nearer to the beleaguered city. They walked in long columns of men, carefully uphill and then finally descending through the rocky plains until at last they reached the wide road. The light of Amon Dîn, long since quenched, stood on the black hill beyond them to the west. The leader of the Wild Men came forward again, explaining that their enemy was no more than an hour to the west and that they had need to hurry. Théoden called a council with the leaders of his Rohirrim.

Ghân, too, was receiving council from the hunters he had sent abroad. "Be wary," he said, turning to the leaders of the Rohirrim. "The walls of stone-city are down. The gorgûn do not look to the roads. They think roads are watched by their own."

Théoden realized the time had come to release the Wild Men from their services. Minas Tirith was only a short distance away and even in the darkness spreading over the afternoon, Buffy could see a faint red glow to the east.

"Good fortune go with you for tidings and for guidance!" Théoden said, and the Wild Men bowed and turned about, when one suddenly spoke up.

"The wind… it changes."

As the Wild Men hurried back up the hill, Théoden turned to his captains. Buffy allowed her thoughts to move to the present and rode hesitantly forward. She felt a sudden need to ride onwards, but slowed to a halt, her eyes scanning the landscape. Someone was in deep danger, she could sense. For some reason, she thought of Gandalf. He was the only one strong enough to defend a city against such an assault. If he was in danger, then he could use the Rohirrim now more than anything.

"My Lady," a voice said at her elbow. Buffy nearly jumped out of her reverie, turning to glance at the rider coming up alongside her. "Will you ride with me?"

"Scouting again, eh?" she asked with a smirk as she rode next to him. "Here I thought you'd never ask."

The two rode onwards, heading towards the east as the captains deferred with their King behind them.

- - - -

In the distance, there was the sound of drumbeats and screaming as the people of Minas Tirith fled from the outer walls. Protected in his domain by the heavy walls surrounding him, Denethor, Steward of Gondor, glanced upon the graying face of his son. He knew not of the war occurring outside, nor did he have any care for it. His eyes were alone on his son and his mind was twisted beyond sanity.

His guards were standing inside the door, looking with pity upon their leader's fallen son, one that the Steward believed to be near death. Faramir was resting in an uneasy fever, his skin cold to the touch.

"My line has ended," the Steward said softly, lifting one of his hands. A small orange glow emanated from the sphere he held as his eyes stared warily at it. "My sons are spent… and all glory shall be gone from this house before an end may come to greet the return of the King. The end of the world has come." Turning, he beckoned to the guards. "I have to bury my son 'ere the end," he explained. "Go to the tombs. Bring wood and oil."

As they departed, Denethor turned. His son may have been a Wizard's pupil, but Faramir was still his son. He pressed his hand over his son's face, checking for any sign of life yet found none. The Hobbit had tried to convince him that his son was still alive. He was not. Perhaps this was the reason why he had been relieved of his services.

"I am sorry," Denethor said, bending over to speak into his son's ear. "No peace is there that remains. Our leaving shall be but a sign that the end of the world has come." Rising, he watched as the doors spilled open and more guards approached.

"Come," he said, and the guards stooped to lift Faramir onto his shield and they bore him from the Citadel towards the room where the men of old were buried within their tombs. "Why do they fight so?" he asked, watching as smoke and the red glow from the many fires below lifted to his eyesight. "Why are they such fools?"

"They fight because Mithrandir demands it," one of the guards replied.

"Fools," Denethor muttered softly. "They are all fools. Do they not know the end when it comes? Do they not know death when they see it? Still they fight…"

"They fight because they have hope," a second guard replied.

"There is no hope," Denethor snapped, turning on him, the oil light held dangerously close to his hair. "I see many things, so do not tell me there is anything left to hope for! Rohan has deserted us and the city will fall before morning. There is no hope for men."

- - - - -

In the next part, the battle of Pelennor Fields begins and thus the halfway point of this story is reached. Finally.


	15. The Battle of Pelennor Fields I

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Currently this thing is half-way posted! As for speculations on whom our dear Slayer is paired with, I will answer nothing now. I am not one to divulge into details and while _he _may seem the only choice, he remains not the only one by a distance once this battle is over! I am finally starting to feel better and getting more writing and editing done. Thankfully my daughter is recovering as well. It may take a few days before we start returning to normalcy, but at the very least I can move around for a few hours without feeling the need to sleep more.

Chapter Summary: The war for Middle-earth has begun, as one of the final battles begins.

Chapter Warning: This chapter is a mixture of the books and the film. I could not help but admire this scene in the films. I thought it did the battle justice except for a few tiny details – there was no Prince Imrahil! This part has been placed into two because the battle was far too long for one chapter. I intend to post the second-half of this chapter come morning, since I just have this lovely thing on my computer, and despise posting everything at once. Yet, these chapters (especially the second) are amongst my first in writing actual battle scenes, of which I have some pride in. Once again, I hope you enjoy.

-

**Chapter 15**

**The ****Battle**** of Pelennor Fields**

**Part One**

_By Alyson Kay_

-

Through the darkness two figures sat upon dark steeds upon a hill set before the city of Minas Tirith. As the gullies dug before the city were filled with flame, great catapults sent burning rock crashing into the city walls. Great plumes of red smoke mingled with the stench from the thousands advancing on the city.

The wall set to protect the city lay directly beneath the hill along the eastward road. Great parts of the wall had been broken, the crumbled remains smoldering upon the ground. There were large trolls set along the walls, armed with hammers and they seemed hell-bent on destruction.

Buffy quietly backed Sador up several paces and scampered back down the hill. She'd seen enough, she thought with disgust as she rode to the other scout, wearing a face of disgust and examining his gloves.

She quietly told him what she'd found as they made their way back to the camp less than an hour's ride to the west.

It was deep night at the encampment as thousands of men rallied their horses into two long lines on either side of the road. In the distance they could see a great red glow. Merry glanced up in time to see two riders bearing quickly from the east. They slowed down to a halt before the King.

Dernhelm shifted before him, his eyes cast out as the King and Marshals rode forward to converse with the scouts from the city.

"The city is in flames," Buffy said in an undertone, riding up beside the King. "We can't wait anymore. They won't last much longer."

"It is maybe a three-hour ride from here," the scout said, still breathing heavily from the speed they had taken. "There are few foes along the outer wall."

"That's because they're too damned busy destroying it," Buffy growled. ""But the fields are full of them. We won't have a problem finding something to hit."

"The time has come at last," the King said, glancing at the young woman riding by his side. She gave him a curt nod, her eyes narrowing slightly. She may not know what was at stake but he was willing to bed she wouldn't stop fighting until the end.

She noticed that Éomer was the one that rode forward, surrounded by the knights of his house. "Riders of Rohan!" he shouted as all came to a halt. "Riders of the Mark! Oaths ye have taken! Now, fulfill them all, to Lord and land!"

There was a single shout from many of the men as they beat upon their shields.

The King moved to stand beside his nephew and as he did, the sky seemed to brighten slightly over their heads. Buffy glanced up as she felt a cool wind on her face and realized then the wind had switched directions. Breathing in the smoky air, she lowered her gaze to the two men sitting before her as they once again rallied their cavalry into movement.

"Éomer, my son," Théoden said, directing the movements as they continued to pass as though planning the invasion of Normandy. "You will lead the first éored behind the King's banner. Elfhelm, lead your company right after we pass the wall! Grimbold, take your company ranks left. Strike wherever the enemy gathers! Forth now, and fear no darkness!"

As they charged forward, Buffy found herself riding alongside the King. Seeing that Éomer was close-by, she decided to go for the more sarcastic approach. "And where would you place a woman?" she asked in a loud, ringing voice.

Théoden glanced at her before eyeing the riders behind him. "I should like you by my side," he said quietly so that only she could hear. "If I were to fall, you have led men in battle. They will follow you until whatever end."

"And your nephew?" she prompted, quite surprised her sarcasm wasn't picked up on. "I hardly think he'd let some woman take control of his—"

"You are not just any woman," Théoden said, and for the first time Buffy caught sight of the weight the King had been burdened to endure for all of these years. "Not since the times of old have women fought beside their men. Today, you ride for the free peoples of Middle-earth and should the time come when the great Lord of Rohan falls, I should entrust such responsibility for the one who could take it."

She considered these words for a moment before sighing, "Let's make sure you don't die, okay?" After all, this man was the reason why she'd been brought here in the first place. She wasn't going to let him die. She'd spent the past few weeks getting to know these people and she quite liked being around them.

Slowly, she turned her head around, catching the eye of the Marshals and Captains. When her eyes met Éomer's, she glanced away.

In the distance, they could hear the sounds of the drums beating.

-

A dozen great beasts came through the thickets of Orcs and wicked men, bringing with them a great rolling device bearing the flaming head of the iron wolf. As the Orcs took in the sight of their beloved hammer, Gandalf watched quietly from above. Archers were positioned along the walls, firing down the Orcs that had attempted to break through the main gates leading into the city. In the distance, more foes approached from the river, driven on by their great Captain, the leader of the Nine and his infamous lieutenant, Gothmog.

Prince Imrahil stood by Gandalf's side. "What say you?" he asked, after ordering his own archers to join those of the city's to bring down the foes. However, battalions of Orcs were climbing upon the iron axels and firing line after line to the archers shooting from above.

"We must wait," Gandalf said, his eyes cast towards the west. The sky was lightening and with it came a change in the wind. Glancing at the city burning around him, he cast his eyes back towards the tombs when great cries of "Grond! Grond! Grond!" brought his attention towards the battle field.

"Come, quickly!" he said to the Prince, and they pulled the archers from the towers and turrets. Gandalf called for the men to rally behind the gates as the Prince set off to find his own cavalry at Gandalf's request. He had said that many would not follow him, yet all seemed particularly keen to live and to listen to one who knew how to direct a battle would be wisest to come from this battle alive.

The wolf's head known as the underworld's hammer Grond struck the gates with such force the chains rattled menacingly before the trolls, out of their sheer exertion, pulled the head back to release it a second time. Lines of soldiers ran into position, lifting pikes and readying arrows.

"Steady!" Gandalf shouted as Shadowfax tossed his magnificent head. "Steady! You are soldiers of Gondor!"

Grond was released against the gates for the third time. This time, debris and chunks of wood were ripped aside as they fell to the paved ground. Gandalf lifted his eyes as the sound of the enemy intensified. Behind the wall waited a black creature and atop it, a black Knight, his sword in hand. As Grond pulled away, the exertion ripped the gate apart as the door fell in riven fragments to the ground.

Inside the broken gates rode a black creature. As the men quailed under the sight of the lord of the Nazgûl, one remained. The figure turned to spy Gandalf sitting on his horse, facing him, the staff held tightly in his grasp.

The figure would have smiled if it had had a face.

"You cannot enter here!" Gandalf shouted and the huge shadow came to a halt. "Go back to the abyss that awaits you and your master! Go!"

The Black Rider flung aside his hood and behold, he had a kingly crown upon which no visible head was set. "Do you not know death when you see it, old man?" he asked, his voice a mere hiss that seemed to rain like nails along a blade of a sword. "This is my hour!" That said, he lifted his sword and red flames ran down the blade.

Gandalf did not move. His eyes were cast upon the figure before him, yet above, through the thick clouds of smoke, a new dawn was arising. His eyes lowered.

"Fool!" the Black Rider continued in his taunt. "You have failed! The world of men will fall!"

Then, it seemed to Gandalf that a cock crowed above him and with that came a blissful glimpse of the new dawn. As if to answer the call, a new sound came from the distance. Horns. There were a great many horns, sounding beyond the foes on the fields.

Rohan had come at last.

-

The way had been perilous. Their journey had finally come to an end in the pre-dawn light before the flame-red sky in the distance. As they passed the crest of the hill, the King made the sign for the horns to blow. As the sound filled the entire valley, the air around them seemed to change.

What they saw as they came over the hill was a disaster.

Buffy felt her jaw drop. Sure, she'd seen everything just hours before when there hadn't been any light. This was different. There were more of them. She'd done a hell of a lot of things. But seeing over two hundred _thousand_ enemies in the valley below attacking a seven-tiered city was beyond her comprehension, considering she was living on two hours of sleep the past forty eight.

The King rode slightly forward as the sounds of the horns died away.

They had ventured towards the city, riding as hard as they could. Once they came to the walls, they easily overwhelmed the few foes remaining. Buffy grinned as she had replaced her sword after a few swift blows. She returned to her place in line behind the great Captains of Éomer's line and waited as, at last, they came to the top of the hill.

In the valley below, she could see figures moving to strengthen their weak flank. There were both pikes and archers, and for this, she glanced at her own bow, her hand caressing the slender arch. Even in the darkness, her advanced sight could see the different weapons flashing in the fiery glow.

She took a deep breath and edged her horse forward. She felt the other men in the company do the same. And yet there was an air of defeat and of fear. Théoden himself seemed to shrink in stature, and Buffy glanced around and saw the look in every single set of eyes she saw.

Well, she never thought her job was easy.

Time seemed poised in uncertainty. There was heaviness in the air that couldn't be explained by anything, really. They were too late. The city was already burning.

And then, she felt it. It was a cool breeze from the north and with it came a scent she remembered a long time before – home.

A soft streak of pale gold appeared on the horizon. With it came a cool wind and a renewed sense of hope.

Buffy felt a vicious smile cross her face as she surveyed the enemy below. With the sunrise at her back, she felt as though she finally got her wish. One last California sunrise was what she'd asked for, and judging by the way the coral streaks lit up above her, she knew she'd gotten it.

With this sense of hope came a sense of extreme testosterone, she realized as she noticed the number of males beating their shields into the ground and pounding their staffs against the armor on their horses. Barbaric, yes, but also sort of… endearing in a way.

She'd have to thank whichever power brought the sun at a later date.

Tall and proud the King stood and turned to them, his voice rising above the barbaric clank of shield on metal. His voice carried far over the thousands gathered behind them and for one Slayer, she felt prouder of him now than she had at any moment. He was really starting to grow on her.

And yet his call was uplifting, rallying his men behind him. Buffy turned her own horse and stood in her own column as the orders they had been given the twilight before remained in their minds.

"Arise, riders of Théoden!" he called out, giving his sword a magnificent twirl as he turned to face his troops. "Fell deeds awake! Spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!"

Buffy had to give it to him; he certainly knew how to make a speech. Her eyes spent their time assessing the strength of the enemy now gathered to take them on. But judging by the fact they were on horse-back, it really wouldn't matter.

She was going to follow the King's banner down the center. It was her own appointed task, since she could have gone dancing backwards had she asked for it. For some odd reason, they no longer questioned her motives. They trusted her to do the right thing because they had far too much else to worry about.

Théoden rode backwards then and grasped the great horn from his own appointed carrier and blew another great blast on it, followed by the blasts of other horns around them. The very ground beneath their feet trembled.

"Ride, ride now to Gondor!"

Turning back, he held out his sword to call the charge. Behind him, three columns of Rohirrim started moving forward. Buffy found herself caught up in the charge as the entire force moved downhill, the dust rising behind them blotting out the sunrise. Swords were lifted and spears were made ready. Buffy lifted her axe and held it tightly in her hand. The sun burst through the gloom behind them as the leading forces took on the long line of archers and pikes in the front lines of the Orc ahead. The King led the stampede and not even his strongest knights could overtake him.

The moment the forces clashed, it was a deluge of horses pounding and spears flashing. The joy of battle was on them as they fought and slew, breaking the lines of Mordor. The flank led by Grimbold swept to the river, leading many with him. Buffy stayed with the King's company, her own axe flashing through the bright light now spilling into the valley.

The progression forward slowed as more enemies came, and not just Orcs.

-

Sitting on the top tower of Minas Tirith, the Lord of the Nazgûl gazed out at the brilliant sunlight pouring onto Pelennor Fields. Fortune had betrayed him at the moment, but he wasn't out of ideas yet. His arm was long and his mind was cold. These forces had one man at their helm and they would crumble without him. He was still in command. It was time to show these beings that there were still great weapons to use. He left the Gate and vanished, his creature rising into the sky.

-

With the arrival of the Rohirrim, Prince Imrahil set out for Gandalf at once, all of the men that could be spared riding out from the city. Those that remained behind now fought back the many foes that had charged past the destroyed gates after the Black Rider had suddenly taken to the air.

Gandalf was waiting for him, giving the order for all women and children to leave the city. Still, great balls of flaming rock descended upon many and there was a cry as women and children fled from the first level. Turning Shadowfax, he cried out, "Fight! Fight to the last man! Fight for your lives!"

"Gandalf!" Prince Imrahil said, finally riding next to the Wizard, his sword in hand. "The Rohirrim are fighting on the fields of Gondor! We must gather all the strength that we can find!"

"Go, take command in the Lord's absence," Gandalf advised him, before coming about to beat back the newest foes charging towards him. Above at the outer wall, the great war machines had opened and hundreds of Orcs were now fighting with all that remained of the guards. The Nazgûl circled high above the city, still a formidable threat. Turning his eyes back to the present matter, he rode onwards until he heard a smaller voice shouting at him from a distance.

"Gandalf! Gandalf!"

It was Pippin. Frowning slightly, Gandalf turned Shadowfax about to face the young Hobbit, his face red from exertion as he came, breathing hard, to Gandalf's side.

"What are you doing here? Get back up to the Citadel, quickly!" Gandalf said, hoping to dismiss the Hobbit quickly and return to rouse the men into battle. But Pippin refused to budge, his face alight with horror as Gandalf took a second look at the younger being, frowning slightly. Something was amiss. "What is it?"

"Denethor has lost his mind!" Pippin cried. "Something terrible may happen up there! I fear for Faramir. He is not dead, yet they may still burn him alive!"

"What of this?" Gandalf asked. "Speak quickly!"

Pippin only had a few seconds to tell his tale before a great roar emerged from behind them. Prince Imrahil was leading a charge through the broken gates, his banner waving in the air.

"Come now," he said, pulling Pippin onto Shadowfax before him. "Up, quickly!"

"Will you not come, Mithrandir?" the Prince asked, turning back as his knights sped through the gates.

"I will come," Gandalf replied. "I have one errand to see to quickly. Go, and make haste!"

The parties separated as Gandalf rode as hard as he dared through the broken, smoldering streets of Minas Tirith.

-

Two main forces of Rohirrim were now coming onto the Fields. As the King sought out new foes, his knights circling around him, Buffy watched the rearguard, as this was the position she was most used to. She didn't want to leave the King behind, but they were so far outnumbered, she didn't have the time to think. They certainly didn't have any shortage of enemies to strike down, that was for certain.

Sador darted left and right as Buffy wove her way cleanly through the Orc. There were new enemies approaching from the river and Buffy and her guards were among the first to see them. She rode forward, made for the lieutenant, Éoran, to blow his horn and summon what forces remained in the rear of the King's banner to charge the enemy swarming in from the south. Turning, she held her axe tightly in her hand and made forward, digging sharply into Sador's ribs as the horse came about.

They were the Haradrim foot soldiers, and as they came to pass, the rearguard swept quickly through them once before doubling back. Turning back, they charged again, this time meeting more resistance. A single banner was floating in the breeze and when Buffy felt the enemies clear the path ahead of her, she saw Théoden fighting one-on-one with another group of men swarming upwards – the Southrons. Buffy twirled her axe in the air and shouted to her own group and they came forward. Pushing forward, she easily cleaved off one helmet before jabbing the blunt end of her axe into another helmet before swinging herself off of Sador to kick a third figure away from her horse.

Pulling herself back onto Sador, she continued to fight off the enemy that seemed to be in never ending supply.

On the other side of the King, Dernhelm was fighting his own battle, Merry the Hobbit in his lap as their horse twisted and turned this way and that, paring with their swords. As they realized that they were being wiped out more quickly than they had wanted, they all turned and fled, the cavalry laid to waste.

A great shrieking cry sounded above them then, and the morning's light was blotted out. Buffy glanced up just as the King sent out his rallying cry.

"Rally to me!" he cried out. "To me!"

Something hard hit the edge of Sador and both horse and rider were tossed off-balance. As Sador reared, Buffy barely held on, trying to calm down her steed with soothing words. She barely missed the tip of a large black wing as it skimmed inches above her head.

A great shadow descended from the sky and a beast came upon Snowmane. As the beast twisted around, Snowmane dropped from its grasp, the King falling beneath his own horse. The rest of the guards started to flee, but were cut down by forces rallying to their great captain. Dernhelm watched with terrified eyes as his King was dropped brutally.

Buffy didn't have much of a choice. The enemies were growing again and she made her own call to the guard as they turned to sweep the defenses. As much as she hated to abandon the King to the winged beast and the Ringwraith atop it, she couldn't. There wasn't enough time. The foes were already cutting her off from the place where the King had fallen and she had little choice but to fight her way towards him.

She closed her eyes and pulled back, bringing the others with her.

Dernhelm on the other hand was forced to abandon his horse when it reared, tossing both he and Merry from the steed. He landed hard, yet his eyes were alert. He saw horses running around, all with a hint of chaos as they fought off the enemies pressing around them. He raised her eyes and saw the reason he was staying. It was the black winged creature hovering over his Uncle, his beloved King. Pulling out his sword, he threw herself in front of the creature with a snarl.

On top of the creature was a hooded a figure with a black mace in his hand, wielding it as a torch as he stared at the forsaken figures strewn on the ground around their King. Until his eyes fell on a smaller figure who had just hurled into position before his creature, the sword flashing in the light returning to day.

"Be gone," the figure said, holding out his sword, "and leave the dead in peace."

A little ways away, Merry sat up, coughing as he glanced at the dead men and horses lying around him. As his eyes rested upon Dernhelm, his heart sang for surely this man was still alive. But he was standing before the winged creature. The Hobbit got to his feet and glanced at the creature now directly in front of him. This figure alone was defending the remains of the King, and Merry found within himself the courage to take one step forward. He knew he couldn't leave his King behind, yet there was blackness in his mind. Then, through this darkness, he thought he heard Dernhelm speaking, and yet the voice seemed strangely familiar to him somehow.

"Do not come between the Nazgúl and his prey," the voice snarled as the creature lifted its dark head, two-inch long teeth glittering in the sunlight.

"I will kill you if you touch him," Dernhelm repeated, holding his sword out. There was no mistaking the fear in the eyes under the helmet, but there was strength there, courage too.

"You fool," the Lord of the Nazgúl hissed. "No living man can hinder me."

Merry's eyes widened when he heard a much different sound; laughter. The clear voice was like a ring of steel as a gloved hand reached up and removed the shining helm. "I am no man," she said, and there was deep pride in her eyes as the helmet fell aside. "I am but Éowyn, daughter of Éomund. You look upon a woman, and not the only that fights in this valley, lo! For living or darkness undead, I will still kill you if you touch him!"

The winged creature screamed at her, but the Ringwraith made no sound, as though doubtful of the creature before him. She stood there, glistening like gold, her sword raised in her hand, her eyes no longer holding fear. Very amazement conquered Merry's own fear, as something the Dagnir had said returned to him. His eyes opened and truly the darkness vanished. Such an innocent creature shouldn't die so beautiful and so alone. Summoning within him his courage, he pulled out his own sword and clasped it in his hand.

The beast gave a great cry and reared its large wings and struck. Éowyn lifted her sword and with a ferocious cry, she leapt away from the creature, drawing it from the King's body beneath her feet. She struck out with her sword and clove its hideous neck asunder. Backward she leapt as the creature fell to ruin, and with the fall of its wings, the shadow passed away. A light fell around her as she lowered her sword, breathing hard. From behind the shield sticking partially into the ground, Merry peered over and saw Éowyn move and collect a spare shield lying at her feet. Her eyes held some fear in them as she watched the cloaked figure move upwards from the body of the shadowed creature.

With a cry of hatred that stung every ear like venom he swung his mace. Éowyn ducked and twisted away, bounding over the fallen Snowmane. She cried out as she rolled away from a second attack and lunged backwards from a third. On the fourth roll, the mace shattered the shield she carried, and the force snapped her arm, breaking it. She screamed in pain as she fell to her knees, but a black hand reached forth and took her by the chin, forcing her to look up into a non-existent gaze.

The Ringwraith raised his mace to kill.

Merry came forward then, stabbing forth his blade of Westernesse through the black armor behind the knee. The mace shot went wild and his hand released Éowyn's tender throat as she collapsed back onto the form of Snowmane, gasping as her senses returned. Glancing up, she saw the figure twist before seizing her own sword. With a triumphant cry, she thrust forward into the black face, the hood falling away as the crown shattered and exploded.

Her strength spent, Éowyn fell over the body of the foe. She felt a sob somewhere deep inside of herself as she saw the Hobbit collapsing across from her. "Merry?" she asked weakly. "Merry…" Both of her arms were useless, one broken and the other feeling as though it had been ripped from her very figure. She lifted eyes as she turned, struggling on her knees as she reached her King. "No…" she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I will not lot you…"

Her strength gone, she collapsed on the body of her King, her golden hair blowing lightly in the wind.

Merry forced himself up, collapsing on his right arm. Rising, he stared at his arm, which felt numb and cold from the shoulder. He stumbled until he fell down to his knees beside his King. His hand gently reached out to touch the golden head at her King's feet, yet she did not stir. He turned back and reached out his own hand to touch the King's face.

His eyes slowly fluttered open as his broken gaze lifted to meet Merry's. "Farewell, dear Hobbit," he said, his voice shaken from the extent of his injuries. "My body has been broken. I go now to my Father's, in whose might company I shall not now feel ashamed. This is a grim morn, a glad day and will be a golden sunset."

Merry couldn't speak. He just bent his face to his lord's shoulder and wept. "Forgive me," he said, raising tear-filled eyes to the body before him. "I broke your command and have done nothing in your presence but to weep at your parting."

The old king smiled. "Grieve not! It is all forgiven, young Hobbit." He closed his eyes and his breath became more tight and full of pain. Merry bent down to better hear him. "Where is Éomer? For my eyes darken, and I would wish to see him before I pass. You must do one thing for me… send word to Éowyn…" His eyes fluttered shut again as Merry cast a panicky look towards the figure lying on the dying man's legs.

"My Lord," he said sadly. "She…" His words failed him as the figure breathed once more before remaining still beneath his touch. With wide, terrified eyes, he pulled away, just as a great host of riders came forward.

Merry had almost forgotten that there was still a great battle being waged. He heard the sounds of metal clinking on metal growing closer before he moved away.

But not before the riders came forward, led by the woman.

Buffy had done everything in her power to return to the spot where the King had fallen. But the enemies' number had been far greater than her original count, and soon she was calling for help as her men fell one after another. Why they had made her a captain, she wouldn't know. After a grueling fight, she was joined by none other than the First Marshal, and they immediately went to the place where the King had fallen.

They both leapt from their steeds, staring at the extent of the damage around them. Buffy felt her eyes widen as she saw Théoden lying on the ground, broken, bloody and pale. "No," she said softly, feeling a strong urge to run forward just as another arm held her back. "No!"

Éomer stood above his Uncle, his proud eyes cast downwards. He knew the men and could tell everyone their names. It was then his eyes fell onto a shining golden head. "What madness is this?" he gasped, pushing forward. Buffy pushed the arm aside and ran to Éomer's side, bending down over the figure of the King. And, at his feet, her hair blowing in the breeze, was Éowyn.

"Oh, my God," Buffy gasped, pulling back as Éomer let out a loud cry, one that all could hear.

Feeling as though her breath was caught in her throat, she saw Éomer take his sister into his arms, tears of anger, pain and regret flashing through his features.

"Éowyn, no," she gasped, dropping down before the pair, her gloved hand moving to touch the woman's pale cheek. She lifted grieving eyes to meet Éomer's, and the First Marshal looked away before gently settling her to the ground.

Buffy rose to her feet, feeling every breath pass as an eternity as she looked all around her for some explanation as to how this sister could have ridden to war with them. Had Buffy known, she would have made certain Éowyn was right beside her! Instead, she saw something else rippling on the ground from the brisk wind. Rushing forward, she stooped and lifted the great banner from the hand of the dead knight carrying it. She took it in both hands and closed her eyes, feeling the great power of this people through the single banner. She turned and glanced at the First Marshal.

There was a sound next to them and she turned her head to see Théoden beckoning at her. "Give… to him…" he rasped, the light dying in his eyes. "Long may… he defend… as King." His eyes drifted to her. A slight smile came to his face before he released his final breath and died on the ground.

She turned to Éomer and handed him the banner. "It belongs to you now," she said, acting on the King's last wishes. "You're the King."

He took it from her, their hands meeting briefly. He could see in her eyes that she was no longer afraid. She was angry. She was damned angry. Turning, she raced back to Sador and pulled herself back onto her horse. Seeing the new King standing before her, she turned to issue the order.

"We stop at nothing!" she shouted, pulling out her axe again. "Do you hear me? We stop for nothing!" She turned to Éomer, still staring at the body of his fallen Uncle and sister. "They'll take care of them," she said softly, dropping her hand on his shoulder. "They need you now. They need their King."

He met her eyes and once again saw the same strength and resilience. No wonder his Uncle trusted her. No wonder the men trusted her. She was a pillar of strength and courage when little existed. He gave her a curt nod as she turned about, prying the horn from her hand. "Form ranks!" she shouted out, issuing the appropriate order as she would as Captain.

Éomer came to her side on his own steed, his eyes dark as he glared at the enemy swarming forward. After one last, tense glance, he lifted his voice, "Ride! Ride to ruin, and the world's ending!"

"Death!" the men cried, throwing their horses forward as the second great charge was called, dust rising all about them.

Merry watched as a small group of soldiers remained behind to pick up the pieces of what remained.

Yet as the great brigade rode forward, their present halted suddenly at the great sight looming before them – the mûmakil. For a moment, the entire defense of the Rohirrim gathered, pressing around their leader. He glanced to his counsel, yet he saw the same determination in her eyes he felt in himself. It was now or never.

One way or another, this battle was going to end.

-

It does not really make much sense to explain what will happen next... alas, the battle ends and the healing begins.


	16. The Battle of Pelennor Fields II

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Success! I feel like I am playing that crappy Windows 3.1 Conquer-the-Earth game. I have finally overcome my computer after it had mastered me with its evil virus. Thank you for reading this beforehand. I shall make other comments in the next chapter which will –hopefully– be posted next week.

Chapter Summary: The war for Middle-earth has begun, as one of the final battles ends.

Chapter Warning: This is largely an original chapter with some references from the book. I could not stand the way Denethor was portrayed in the movie. I hope I did his character justice. Because I was basically combining three chapters into one, it turned out to be one messy heap once it ended. Of course a little bit of editing and scenes were added to make it flow more smoothly. It is only slightly longer than the previous part but I am quite proud of it. These were the first action scenes I have written and I vowed to give this battle justice.

-

**Chapter 16**

**The ****Battle**** of Pelennor Fields**

**Part Two**

_By Alyson Kay_

-

As Éomer and the other knights rode off towards the great Haradrim force, Merry found himself standing beside the fallen King, forgotten by all that had gone off. Still there were others that remained. He seemed astounded as the sounds of the battle rang close to him, yet he took no notice of it.

After searching the ground, he found the shield Éowyn had given to him. He pulled it over his shoulder and looked for the sword. He found it, smoking, and the blade worn to nothing. He held out his sword-arm, which was very numb and thought for a moment that he could not feel his own fingers…

He was distracted by the sounds of weeping, for knights had come to lift Théoden onto their shields and bear him towards the smoking city. A younger knight bent down and pulled Éowyn into his arms and gazed at her fair face, so quiet as though she were resting through a deep sleep.

Merry tagged behind them as they bore the King and his niece with great honor towards the city, meeting with Prince Imrahil on his ride out of the gates. When he cast his eyes upon the King, he dismounted from his horse and made his way towards the honor guard, his face full of dismay.

"What burden do you bear, men of Rohan?" he asked, glancing at the two figures behind him.

"Théoden King, for he is dead," they replied, and when Imrahil turned his eyes upon the young woman borne behind him, he looked at her in amazement. "King Éomer rides in battle now."

"Surely here is a woman?" he asked softly, touching her cold face. "Have even the women of Rohan responded to our great need?"

"Nay," they replied. "Save the Lady Éowyn and…"

Prince Imrahil bent to one knee to honor the fallen two before rising again. As he did, he caught a greater glimpse of Éowyn. "Have you no leeches amongst you?" he asked, pressing his glove to her lips. As she exhaled, a faint blue mist appeared and disappeared within the blink of an eye, yet there were many who saw it. "She is still alive but will fall to death surely if haste is not taken."

There was a great cry and the Prince turned as his horse rode to his side. In the distance, he could see the white-horse tailed helm of Éomer. But his attention was drawn instead to the horse beside the newly instated King of Rohan.

"That is surely the other woman to ride with us," one of the knights murmured behind the Prince of Dol Amroth. "She is called Merilin."

The Prince had little time to dwell on it. Already the great oliphaunts were making their presence known, forcing the Rohirrim to scatter. Time was of the essence and unless he moved his knights onto the battlefield, the Rohirrim would face certain death. He bade the honor guard farewell and rode south into battle.

-

Buffy realized that they'd made a mistake when charging the giant Hannibal-like elephants. Hell, she wasn't even surprised anymore to see such creatures. Come to think of it, she was waiting for walking crocodiles and arrow-touting flamingos. Indeed, Éomer's fury seemed to have betrayed him as the horses, whilst riding in formation, made delectable prey for the archers perched on top of the gigantic elephants. The Haradrim's footmen, realizing they had at last found a weakness in the Rohirrim's formidable force, fell back to stand behind dozens of the large mûmakil. As the creatures charged, the horses reared and pulled to the side, which led to a rather grotesque amount of trampling.

Buffy pushed Sador to the side as one of the great feet landed with a tremendous thud next to her. Sador neighed and reared, nearly tossing her rider from her back. Buffy miraculously held on, and as Sador came to, Buffy blinked as the horse cleared the opening lines of the elephantine creatures. But she saw with some horror that not all of her riders behind her were there. In fact, there were large, gaping holes and after watching one of the crater-sized feet crush one horse after another, she winced at the sound of smashing bones and screams of utter terror. They were sounds she'd heard throughout her life.

Despite that, they were finally out of reach of the archers atop the mûmakil. She glanced around for Éomer when she saw him leading a second charge back into the line of foes now streaming towards the city. In the distance, her gaze caught sight of a grand banner bearing a white ship like a swan upon blue water. "Come on," she said softly to Sador.

The rest of the rearguard was riding swiftly parallel to Éomer's forces, gathering what weaponry they could. A line of men was set up to attack the archers, fighting fire with fire. Buffy drew her own bow and fitted it with an arrow, spying the approach of three of the great mûmakil. "Fire!" she shouted, and as they fired, a greater swarm of Orcs seemed to spill like ants onto the battlefield, pushing forward with their lieutenant Gothmog sending them. They were now facing a battle on two fronts and because she had lost a significant number of men, they were going to lose both. Éomer was shouting something over the din of clashing swords and thundering hooves.

"Fall back!" she shouted, lifting her axe and gesturing with it in the direction of their King's call. "Fall back to the King!"

It began to rain. The beautiful sunrise had given way to a dull grey sky. The rain was cold on her face…

Éomer, realizing that his goal to take on the Haradrim was futile, started gathering his forces to him. He caught a flash of gold in the distance and saw the metallic glint of an axe swinging in a graceful arc. And yet the Rohirrim were being pushed through to the center where Éomer was standing. Knowing that it would be futile to continue fighting enemies ten times their size, he called the remnants of his forces to him. With them came his own rearguard and he saw with some relief that Merilin, of Buffy as she preferred to be called, was still alive.

"That was fun," she said, exhaling hard as she drew Sador to rest next to him. "I don't think I want to try it that way again."

The look on his face was intense and his voice was dark. "It seems we have little choice."

Her hand tightened on her axe as she sought the banner. There were a great many Orc and other wicked men between them and their aid now, she thought, sighing. They were being cornered into this location and soon they would be picked off like flies. "We shouldn't just sit here," she growled. "We're just waiting to be killed."

The day had seemed thus to turn against Gondor, and as it was now mid-morning and the rain was blowing away with the north wind.

The woman sitting next to him seemed even tenser than he was, if that could account for anything. She wasn't moving much. He saw her scanning the enemy with a calculating look in her eyes.

"We must go east," she finally said, lowering her gaze and glancing at the King. His attention was drawn behind him where Southrons were now attacking his own rearguard. Both turned their horses about and pulled out their favored weaponry. Éomer held his sword in his hand while Buffy held her axe to her body.

Then, with a parting glance, they charged back into the battle.

-

The sounds of the battle were lost inside the great tomb of the forefathers of Gondor. Denethor stood next to a stack of wood, watching as his son's diseased figure was laid to rest upon it. Six torch-bearers stood around him as Denethor gently cleansed his son's face with the perfumed oil given to him by his guards.

He only glanced up when he heard the clashing of swords on the other side of the doors. When they burst open he turned, agitation clearly shining in his eyes.

In rode Gandalf on Shadowfax, with the tiny face of his former guard peering behind him. With their arrival came a lashing of rain and wind from the north, cold upon the faces of the guards nearest the door as they fell to their knees at the commanding power of Gandalf.

"Stay!" Gandalf cried, lifting the pike he'd seized outside the door. "Stay this madness!"

The men that came to him bearing shields and armed suddenly quailed as Gandalf sprang ahead, a beautiful white glow set about him. He turned ancient eyes to Denethor who stood upon the wood, doused in oil, smiling the coldest smile.

"Did you think the eyes of the White Tower were blind to all that moved, Mithrandir?" Denethor asked, and in the darkness of the room they saw the glimmer of madness in his eyes as he withdrew one of the palantír. "For a little space you may triumph on the field, for a day. But against the power that now arises there is no victory. All the East is moving. Even now as hope glimmers in the City the black ships rise on the Anduin. The West has failed. It is time for all to depart who would not be slaves."

"Such counsels will make the enemy's victory certain, indeed," Gandalf said quietly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "As will all counsels that demand you burn alive your own flesh and blood."

"Hope on then," Denethor laughed. "Your hope is to rule in my stead. I know you have entrusted this Halfling to keep such things from me. And yet in our speech together I have learned the names and purpose of all your companions. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with the right bring up this Ranger of the North to supplant me." His eyes seemed to grow darker in the dim red light from the orb he held ever-so-tightly in his hand. "I will not bow to a Ranger from the north, the last of a line bereft of lordship and dignity."

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward!" Gandalf said, his voice sharp as he gazed upon the man who had just dropped the great seeing-stone onto the ground. His eyes remained clouded.

"You have already stolen my son's love from me. I shall not give you my pity," Denethor said, his long cape swirling backwards as he gestured for the torch-bearers to set the wood on fire. "Come hither!" he called to his servants. Lifting the palantír he leapt upon the stack of wood as the flames began to burn about him.

There was a cry as Beregond came forward from the doors, his eyes searching the smoke-filled tomb. When he at last laid eyes upon his Captain, he made forward and knocked him from what could easily have become his fiery grave. All of this was done out of eyesight of the Steward, who was gazing with great pity upon Mithrandir and the little Hobbit who had been a part of his guard, even for a short time.

"You will see ere the end of the day," Denethor rasped as the flames took him. Gandalf and Pippin could only watch as the flames consumed him and, with a final cry, Denethor passed on into the daylight.

"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion," said Gandalf tragically as they walked Shadowfax from the tombs, thick, billowing clouds of smoke pouring from behind them. From the darkness came four guards bearing Faramir, and Gandalf ordered him to be taken to the Houses of Healing.

The rain that had been falling before now seemed to be waning, but in the distance he could sense a change of fortune. From where he was standing, he could not see the battlefield but knew that the hearts of men were weakening to the thousands of foes now spilling onto the fields.

-

Buffy pulled her axe roughly from an armored torso and kicked away the body, spinning around to land another harsh blow to the neck of a secondary foe. All around her men were fighting. She swung her axe upwards before using the exertion to knock the body ten feet away where it spun cleanly in the air before landing on the ever-growing pile of corpses around the cornered group of Éomer's Rohirrim forces.

But most of their eyes were now gazing towards the river and with their glimpses raised a cry of alarm. Even from where she was now mounting back onto Sador she could hear the sounds of bells ringing in the towers of Minas Tirith. Her eyes sought out the cause for their concern.

There were black ships aligning the horizon.

"Oh, no," she said quietly under her breath as a great cheer rose from the field. As the vigorous fighting continued, she turned her attention back to fighting off the wave upon wave of Orcs now seemingly wishing for the entire Rohirric éored she stood beside. Lifting her bruised face, she caught sight of Éomer's dark expression and saw the reflection of the black sails through his clear grey gaze. Pulling her axe from the cranium of her latest victory, she rested on her axe for a moment, attempting to catch her breath as she switched her axe from hand to hand. Already the men around them were raising their swords in defense of the ships now coming to shore.

"The corsairs! The corsairs of Umbar have come!" they cried. "It is the last stroke of doom! The Corsairs of Umbar have come!"

Now all that remained of the men were staring at the ships as the cries continued to erupt around them. Already the fighting ceased as victory seemed to be sealed for the darkness and Gothmog himself rode his warg onto the battlefield, lifting his sword in triumph.

"I guess this is it," Buffy said, preparing herself mentally for what this would mean. "I guess this is the end."

"Then let us make it such an end!" he said, and took the banner from his knight and rode to the hill before stabbing the ground, setting the banner. For a moment all gazed warily at the green banner as it fluttered in the breeze before returning to his men.

They all gazed upon him, their looks bordering on reverence and respect. Buffy lowered her gaze as her hair caught the wind, yet there was a fierce determination in her gaze. "Give 'em hell," she said, smirking slowly.

Éomer turned his steed about as they prepared to fight to the last man. It was only when he saw a flicker of color from one of the standards aboard the ship did he laugh. As he gestured to the horizon, many pairs of eyes followed. For, as he laughed with despair, there a standard broke bearing the white tree and seven stones above, signaling seven stars. A high crown sat atop it, sewn for Aragorn by the hand of Arwen Evenstar. As the ships came to the bank, those awaiting them were suddenly stunned with surprise as from the bow of the ship came not the pirates of the Umbar, but Aragorn, son of Arathorn or Elessar, Isildur's heir.

Immediately the mood seemed to change and crackle with some power. Swords were lifted in the air and with it came the sound of singing. Buffy let her head roll back with relief as she spied Legolas and Gimli, never far behind the Ranger and with him came the other Rangers, the identical Elves and what seemed to be hundreds, if not thousands, of men bearing arms.

The hosts of Mordor were seized with bewilderment as Aragorn led the charge from the east. The Prince of Dol Amroth led the charge from the west, pushing the enemy further away from the city. The Rohirrim turned and, with their own peals of laughter and song leading them, led the charge south. The host of Mordor looked upon this new wizardry and a great black dread fell amongst them for their ships were full of their foes and the numbers that had been easier to attack had now swelled. The tides of fate had turned against them and their doom was at hand.

Together the three opposite forces charged the foes in the fields. Buffy pulled her own guards parallel with those of Dol Amroth, only to come face-to-face with the great half-trolls from the far East of Harad, giant men towering twelve feet tall bearing axes of their own caliber that looked more like giant anvils. Buffy led her own charge through these foes and, in two single lines, they charged into the fold.

Buffy managed to wrench an axe easily from the first figure she came across only to receive a cold blow to the head. Kicking aside his frame, she received a second blow. This was enough to send Sador rearing and Buffy, caught unawares, tumbled off the backside of her horse, her own axe landing sharply into the ground near her head. She had just enough time to grasp her weapon and thrust it upwards into the torso of her attacker before there was a gentle thud of an axe a few inches to the right side of her body. She flipped back to her feet and lifted her enemy's axe into her hands, giving it a righteous twirl before delivering it into the abdomen of the second body to attack her. She used the impact of her initial parry to propel him backwards into the advancing group. She had raised the axe again to launch herself into a third foe when something collided hard with the back of her skull, sending her flying a good twenty feet before she landed sharply on her head and tumbled head over heels to land on her back. The impact of her body slamming into the ground sent little stars before her vision and for a moment her ears rang as the battle erupted around her.

She pushed herself back up, realizing that as she'd flown; her axe had gone spinning into oblivion. When she had landed, she'd heard a magnificent crack and as she stood she felt a dull ache when she inhaled. Her shoulder was also rather painful and seemed off and she realized that when she'd landed she'd managed to dislocate it. She didn't have time to worry about the condition of her body, however, as the Easterlings were once again moving towards her. Pulling out her sword, she fought her way through the line, only to be joined at last by a vast group of men crying in a language she didn't understand and wielding weapons from pick-axes to hatchets. She found herself caught up in their enthusiasm as they easily overtook the smaller Easterlings front. She was just about to turn back towards the north when a great roar sounded from behind her.

"Oh, no, not these guys again!" she cried, only to turn and have her sword easily knocked to the ground. A second blow later and Buffy was stumbling backwards, trying to stay on her feet, but with the axe raised as though it were a hammer, it was even more difficult to have much hope.

Seconds before the creature could deal her one final blow, it straightened, as though having a seizure. As it collapsed, she gasped, falling to the ground despite her determination to stay above it. Her axe that had disappeared when she'd been flung from Sador was embedded into the back of the creature's skull. "What?" she asked, not understanding what had just happened.

A gloved hand reached down to wrench her axe from the body before turning it over to return the handle towards its owner. Buffy found her eyes moving up from the plain black boots and trousers to a long cloak and armaments adorned with mail. Her eyes met those of the Ranger she had first been introduced to just days before. "You," she whispered.

He bent down and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. "I found this flying through the air," Halbarad said, nodding at the axe now safely back in her own hand. "It nearly took my life. You should use more caution should it escape that grasp again."

"I guess I'll have to watch that," Buffy said dryly as they ran off. Seeing the large group of forces before them, she tightened her grasp and saluted him before charging back into battle.

In the distance, Éomer and Aragorn met as they leaned on their swords, watching as the remaining Rohirrim on horseback swirled around the last of the Orcs, cutting them off from the forces Gothmog was now leading into battle. After spending enough of the morning watching his men and his own Uncle and sister die at the hands of these foes, he took great pleasure in destroying these forces.

"Thus we meet again," Aragorn called to Éomer as the two fought off these new foes. "Did I not say so at the Hornburg?"

"So you spoke," Éomer replied. "But hope oft deceives, yet today was not. Never was a meeting of friends more joyful." And they clasped hand in hand. "Nor indeed was it any more timely," he continued. "You have come none too soon, my friend. Much loss and sorrow has befallen us."

"Then let us avenge it, ere we speak of it!" Aragorn cried as the two men rode back into battle, side by side.

Legolas and Gimli, on the other hand, led the force of men from Lebennin and the men of Angbor of Lamedon and the Ethir into battle.

"Fifteen… sixteen…" Legolas counted as he withdrew both of the arrows he used as a blade from one foe and embedded them into the skull of a second. Behind him, Gimli swung his axe through the torso of one Orc before turning to slide the backend of the axe into the cranium of a second.

"Seventeen… eighteen…"

With a sickening snarl, the creature he'd just killed grunted as it fell face-first onto the muddy ground with a sopping splat.

"Nineteen…"

The Prince of Dol Amroth rode forward with his own knights and they spread about the field, before his horse came to reside next to a smaller figure that fought with an axe much too large for his figure. But the more he stared at the figure, the more he realized that this was this Merilin that the others had spoken of. He watched her fight with both ends of the axe, knocking a clear path through the line of Easterlings that she fought against and with her stood Halbarad, the rest of the Rangers, and the twin sons of Elrond.

He began to see why she was in battle. She was clearly far too small and swift for these creatures to defeat her. Yet she managed to use such grace and skill with her arms despite her lack of height. She was a formidable opponent and he could easily see why the others seemed to flock to her in battle. She was attacking every creature she could, avenging the death of her fallen King. What he didn't know was that by fighting this war, she was avenging the promise she had made to not watch the King fall. This was her choice to fight as she was. The other men, Éomer, Aragorn and the Prince of Dol Amroth amongst them only fought those brave enough to face their banners. They knew nothing of the wrath of a short yet stern-tempered Slayer who wanted nothing more than to see every last foe destroyed.

Behind them rose the sounds of horns and trumpets, signaling the return of the mûmakil. Buffy turned and saw a group of knights thundering across the field towards her. With a cry, she rolled out of their way. She sent one kick to send the men tottering over in a slight domino effect before the other Rangers fighting with her took them on in battle one by one. After neatly beheading one with the end of her axe, she turned to strike a second foe with the blunt end, sending the figure spiraling away from her. She gave him a mighty kick with the tip of her foot, sending him flying into the path of the barbed wire hooks of the mûmakil.

"Crap!" she moaned, turning to dive aside as the thundering creature missed her body by mere feet. Pushing herself to her feet, she lifted her gaze and saw something that made her pause. In this moment, it seemed like time had finally come to an end.

It was a figure dressed as a Ranger on his knees. She saw the figure glance up with a look of almost childlike innocence in his eyes, the look of a man who knew that a dark fate was about to end his life. Seizing her sword, she threw herself into the figure, yet another of the half-trolls. As they both crashed to the ground, she kicked him away to turn a second glance back to Halbarad, who was now lying on the ground, a severe wound across his chest. She cried his name only once before a below sent her sprawling. She regained her balance as she lifted her axe in defense against the creature that had just tried to kill the man that had saved her life. As she moved, her helmet twisted uncomfortably, blocking her vision. She lifted her axe blindly only to feel the secondary axe crack her weapon into two, sending her sprawling for a second time. Once she'd regained that balance, she ripped her helmet from her head to gaze upon her enemy and saw that he was advancing for the kill. She lashed out, punching and kicking the creature with both ends of the axe until she sent it staggering in the opposite direction.

She cast down both ends and pulled out her sword. It glinted in the bright sunlight as she brought the sword against the creatures axe. It took only two swift blows before the creature was on its knees. She drove the blade of her sword through the top of the half-troll's head before cleaving its head. Kicking the headless creature aside she turned in time to see a great crowd of black cloaks descending on them.

She was so tired, she thought as she stumbled back towards the man now lying motionless on the ground. She drove her sword cleanly through one foe before cleaving the head from another. At last she fell to the ground next to Halbarad, only to remain there to close his eyes, which were staring peacefully at the clear blue sky over their heads. Glancing up, she spied one of the twin Elves standing there, offering her the helmet she'd removed in battle.

"There is little you can do for him," the Elf said as she took the helmet and stood up, stumbling slightly as the extent of her sleeplessness and her injuries started to take hold.

"Thanks," she said, forcing a small smile as she took up her sword. He noticed the wariness in her eyes. "Here," she said, walking over and throwing her left arm into his grasp. "Hold me."

He didn't know what she implied, yet he held her as she twisted around until there was the mild sound of popping and a string of colorful curses before she ripped her arm from his grasp.

"Are you injured?" he asked her.

She shook her head as she shook out her arm, taking the sword with her left hand. "Good as new," she said, lying through her teeth. Yet he didn't need to know that. She spied the backsides of the mûmakil and, jamming the helmet back on her head, burst forward, stunning the Elf with her speed and enthusiasm. Coming forward on their warg-riders were the remainders of the Orcs, led by Gothmog. He leapt from his warg and moved forward to clash swords with the woman.

She easily threw him off before kicking him aside. From her left came the Dwarf, his axes cleaving into the Orc's torso and abdomen before Buffy thrust her sword through his backside. Their foe finally defeated, the two shared a grim nod before turning to face the remnants of what had once been a great threat of Orcs. Few remained now and they looked upon the growing numbers of their enemy before them. There was King Éomer of the Rohirrim and the rest of his men, gathering around him both on horseback and on foot. There was the Prince of Dol Amroth and the knights all around him. Lastly there was the Ranger of the North, Aragorn, with his own band of men from the south. Swords glistened in the sunlight as the full wrath of Gondor was finally unleashed against the great armies of Mordor.

Buffy was finally reunited with her own rearguard and came at last before Éomer who looked relieved to see that she was still alive. She turned her back to face his own as they fought off the latest group thrown against them. "Do you really think I'd let a little thing like death kill me off again?" she asked as she punched one figure away before kicking from the side into another.

"It pleases me to see you live still," he replied. He felt a slight amount of guilt in not really finding out whether or not she was still alive. She had been important to Mithrandir for reasons he had yet to understand. But some of his men seemed to love her and gave out small tokens of welcome as she once again rejoined their numbers, looking worse for the wear.

She glanced at him and for the first time he saw her injuries. He was yet uninjured, but with that was a stroke of luck. She had thrown herself into every battle and had fought against every foe. She had truly become one of a great many, one of the few women who had ever fought the war for Middle-earth as a human woman. She had two deep cuts across her face and most of the left side of her cheek was bruised. Her lip was broken and she seemed to be bleeding from a blow to the head. She limped slightly as she walked and as she drew breath she made a rasping sound. He knew that she was exhausted for she hadn't slept much at all during their travels to Gondor.

They were separated yet again by the Rangers who had come and met them at last. Turning to the lines of mûmakil still wreaking havoc upon the field, Buffy turned and gathered what men she could. She was most surprised when a bow was suddenly thrust into her chest. She turned and saw one of the Elves standing by her side, offering her a quiver. She took it with a grateful, "Thanks" and turned to rush forward. Hundreds of men readied their weapons as the great elephants were goaded forward one last time. With them was the onslaught of the last of the foes of Mordor. With them rode the Rohirrim and their horsemen, spears and pikes held in the hands.

Buffy led this group alone on foot, her own bow steadied as she lifted the tip of her arrow, raising the angle at which she cried, "Now!"

Hundreds of arrows flew through the air, many selecting a target and the rest falling soundlessly to the well-trampled grass. Those bearing pikes and spears now stood upon the smoldering remains of barns and homes as, at last, the two sides came face-to-face. The day of the chaotic battle where absolutely nothing was organized had at last come to an end. Buffy exhaled painfully as she pulled a secondary arrow. She was joined a few seconds later by Legolas, who fired a second shot at her command of "Fire at will", whilst muttering "Thirty nine" under his breath.

They exchanged a bemused look before she let loose her own arrow. When it made its mark to a warg, sending the creature sliding twenty feet before coming to a rest mere yards from their position, she gave Legolas a haughty glance before triumphantly whispering, "Sixty."

It was only a guess for her. It felt like two hundred, but whereas she'd been fighting all day, Legolas had only arrived a few hours before. Still the look that he gave her made her laugh, a sound that had not been heard on this battlefield since their foes had raised their victorious cries at the landing of the Corsairs.

"Archers!" Aragorn cried out again, forcing both the woman and the Elf to rearm and ready themselves for the final onslaught of battle. Beyond the groups of men were the mûmakil, still formidable even though their numbers had been greatly lessened. There remained now only eight of these creatures, but their backs were bare as every last Haradrim had been shot down. Many had died in the attempt to assail these expert marksmen and, as Buffy noted with a hint of satisfaction, without the men driving these poor monsters into battle, they were likely to trample friend _and _foe.

However, the mûmakil were also gathering speed. She knew now why the marksmen on their side had taken to higher grounds. She saw Legolas eyeing the closest mûmakil with something like disgust in his eyes.

After releasing a second set of arrows, Legolas realized that he and a few others were in the path of the oncoming mûmakil. "Come with me," he said, taking Buffy's wrist.

She had been distracted by the sudden arrival of the screeching creatures far above them. She was jerked onto her knees before stumbling back to her feet, trying to keep pace with the unyielding Elf. He was seriously going to get her killed. When she realized they were heading directly towards the giant Hannibal-on-steroids, she moaned under her breath. A long rope was trailing to the ground and as they ran along side the creature, Legolas told her to jump. She had just enough time to sling her bow over her shoulder before her fingers grasped the cold materials. With a leap of his own, Legolas sliced through the wires holding the rope and Buffy found herself flying into the air.

Her exhausted mind was blissfully calm for a moment until her tired body was thrust into the side of the mûmakil, which let out a roar. Using the last of her strength, she twisted until she had a good view of the back of his head. Keeping her grasp on the loose netting still hanging off the top of the pathetic creature, she drew and arrow and shot it straight into the creature's skull. It bellowed and started moving sideways, sending Buffy skidding ten feet along the backside. She barely managed to hold on by digging her fingers into the hard, grey flesh. The creature roared again, but Buffy pulled herself up and taking a second arrow shot it into the mûmakil's thick skull. As the creature slowed, it tilted to the side. Once it was close enough to the ground, Buffy dove off of it, only to land on the ground and have to dive again as the carcass landed straight where she'd been standing just seconds before.

The Elf seemed to sense her hesitation to return to battle despite the fact that they had at last engaged the forces of Mordor by hand. Swords were flashing in the sunlight.

Buffy could hardly breathe as she glanced around, feeling her chest tighten with the effort. She saw the Rangers fighting with their own strong arms. She saw one of the banners of Rohan flying gaily even as its pointed end was used as a weapon. Time seemed to slow as she drew back to her feet, sword in hand. She heard her breath ring through her ears as she took in the bodies, both friendly and not around her. It seemed as though this battle was finally drawing to an end.

They had won.

She heard the shattering of wood behind her as one of the wooden war towers was knocked down, splinters of wood and rock landing around her. When she was engaged in combat, her mind was blissfully clear. But there were no more foes around her and her mind was reminding her just how little rest it had lived on. The battle was over, she thought to herself. She had fulfilled her end of the agreement. She had done what Whistler had asked of her and had advised King Théoden to the end, may his soul rest at peace. She had done everything she had been asked to do.

She closed her eyes as she slid down the sturdy surface of the war machine, bidding her eyes to stay open. But her injuries were forcing her body back to the present. She had certainly broken ribs after falling from Sador. Her shoulder was still tender and as she directed her blurred gaze to her hands, she saw that they were still bruised and bleeding.

There was a song coming from the fields now. Or was it inside her own imagination, a voice telling her it would be okay to sleep? It would be okay to finally rest at peace. It was all right to just want to…

As she sagged down against the rotted tower, the others continued in their haste to finish the battle once and for all. Gandalf himself had left the city and with him came the rest of the forces of Gondor. Their enemy, pinned between the two forces, their foes were finally brought down.

The sun went at last behind the mountains and filled all the sky with a great burning, so that the hills were dyed as with crimson blood; fire glowed in the River and the grass of the Pelennor Fields lay red in the nightfall. And in that great hour, their battle for Gondor was finally over. The fields were quiet under the darkening lights and only those who remained searched among the great debris for any signs of life. All foes had been slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever returned eastward to Morgul or Mordor and to the land of the Haradrim there came only a tale of the wrath and fury of Gondor.

-

In the next part, the Houses of the Healing and no victory is ever sweetened with the bitterness of loss… even when hope is found. Yet another two-part chapter sequence approaches and hopefully will be hosted at once.

I really hope you did enjoy this section. I am not an action-writer, so it tended to be a little "hunky dory" for me. And yet... I felt it needed something else. I was happy with the way this turned out, however.


	17. Hurting

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Oh, wow. I know it has been a few weeks since the last chapter was posted and for this, you have my sincerest apologies. I have been working on other projects and have some real life issues occurring right now that seem to need my utmost attention. I have finally caught up on my reading (lucky me), and have thus gone back to edit this chapter. It is the first part of a two part set written by Trina, and I really liked how it turned out. There is no cliffhanger involved and it is a bit shorter than other chapters, but, to me, it is emotional and beautiful and considered my second most favorite chapter of this story. My favorite has yet to come, but I _loved _it from the beginning. And I wrote neither of these chapters, which comes to show my faith in writing characterization. Alas, thank you for taking the time to read this story and I hope you will remain patient with me as we work through some of our current issues.

Chapter Summary: One battle is over, but the fight for life has only begun.

Chapter Warning: This is part one of the two chapter sequence on the Houses of Healing. We decided that two chapters would be better than one long one. For that reason, these are slightly shorter than the other chapters have been. Oh, and in passing, Buffy did not die… she is still alive, only "sleeping". This chapter combines elements from both the book and our imaginations.

x-x-x

**Chapter 17**

**Hurting**

_By Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

Merry was exhausted as he passed the withered gates of Minas Tirith. He gave little interest to the wreck and slaughter that seemed to lie all about him. Fire, smoke and stench were in the air as the city was still burning under the guise of the rain threatening to pour from the dark clouds gathering above.

The rain was cold on his skin and brought some sense back to his mind, which had remained blissfully calm. He was aware that he was walking through a smoky haze, which seemed to him that he was walking through a dim light towards the illumination in the distance.

Already men were laboring to clear a way through the debris from the battle, which had moved outside of the city. Litters had been brought forth and both Théoden and Éowyn were laid to rest upon them. Éowyn had been laid on a bed of soft pillows while the King had been covered in a golden cloth which was drawn over his face, burying his look of a man who could finally rest at peace. Torches were lit, even in the cold rain and wind.

Their bearers took them into the city of Gondor and all who looked upon them bared their heads and bowed. They passed along the streets of stone, through dim haze and through bodies piled to Merry's fullest height. He didn't seem to be aware of them anymore. It had become a meaningless journey in a dream, the light at the end never coming one step closer no matter how many determined leaps he was willing to take to get there. If only he could close his eyes to finally get some sleep! The road was endless and upwards, through many arches and around many corners. Soon even the doorways and the people seemed to blur as Merry's mind numbed and he found himself walking through his sleep.

It was then did he hear a voice which seemed to bring him from his daze; someone was calling his name.

"Merry! Merry!"

He looked up and the mist in his eyes seemed to clear a bit. There was Pippin standing before him. They were face-to-face and alone in a narrow lane. Somehow, Merry thought, he must have lost the main road. Pippin noticed the look on Merry's face and gently turned him around.

"Where is the King and Éowyn?" Merry asked, glancing around as though hoping to see their caravan before he lost his mind.

"They have been brought to the Citadel," Pippin replied. "I think you must have fallen asleep on your feet and taken a wrong turn. When we saw that you were not with them, Gandalf sent me to look for you. How I am glad to see you again!"

Merry attempted to give him a smile, but Pippin's face had already become a blur. "It's going all dark again," he murmured as he felt the chill in his arm. Pippin looked at him anxiously before reaching down to grasp the arm held loosely at the side of his cousin.

"Tell me, are you hurt or wounded?" Pippin asked, releasing the arm and touching Merry's face to feel for a temperature.

"No,' Merry replied. "I don't think so. But I can't use my right arm, Pippin, not since I stabbed him."

"Well, you'd best come with me as quick as you can," Pippin said, his tone reflecting the concern written on his face. "I wish I could carry you. You aren't fit to walk further. They shouldn't have let you walk at all, but you must forgive them. So many dreadful things have happened in this City." In his mind, he reflected on the last few moments of the Lord Denethor's life. "Many dreadful things," he added unnecessarily, seeing Merry stoop slightly to lean against a wall, taking deep, heavy breaths. "Oh, Merry…"

Merry turned to look at him, his face showing that he was indeed weakening to the point of collapse. "Are you going to leave me?"

"No, Merry," Pippin said, stepping under the useless arm of his closest friend and hoisting him back to his feet. "I am going to look after you now. Come on, foot by foot. It is not far."

"Where are we going?" Merry asked, his tone weak. "Are you going to bury me?"

"No," Pippin repeated, shaking his head as he continued pushing his way up the street. "No, we are going to the Houses of Healing."

They turned out of the narrow lane that ran between the tall houses and the outer wall of the fourth circle and regained the main street climbing towards the Citadel. As they walked, Merry continued to sway and murmur as though he were sleeping.

He spied one of the errand boys and pleaded with him to tell Gandalf where they were; he would never get Merry to the Citadel by himself. The hobbit had fallen unconscious and seemed to be troubled, the expressions on his face changing rapidly. Pippin felt himself panic as he touched Merry's right arm, which felt like ice to the touch.

It was not long before Gandalf himself came to search for them. He found them near the gate of the fourth circle. Merry's head was resting in Pippin's lap while the tearful hobbit stroked the other's hair. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of battle. A cold peal of sunlight fell across the street and the beam touched Merry's face which was pale, his lips slightly blue.

"I couldn't leave him," Pippin said as he recognized Gandalf's shadow standing over them.

"I would not expect that of you," Gandalf said, reaching down and relieving Pippin of his bundle. "He should have been borne in honor into this city. He has well repaid my trust, for if Elrond had not yielded to me, neither of you would have set out and then today's events would have been far more grievous, I fear." He sighed and gestured for Pippin to follow him. "And yet here is another charge on my hands, while all the time the battle hangs in the balance."

At last Faramir, Éowyn and Meriadoc were laid in beds in the Houses of Healing. They were tended well, considering not one of the healers knew exactly what was ailing them. They were all pale and dark, murmuring in their sleep. Every attempt to awaken them failed. Their wounds were treated with care and professional hands, yet none could fathom why they kept falling further into sleep. The boys who ran errands frequently ran through the halls to bring word of the battles outside. The healers had no heed to hear such tidings, but those lying in wait for treatment were eagerly awaiting the news.

Yet all through the afternoon, Faramir continued to burn with a fever that would not fade. The Lady Éowyn had been tended to with care, but her skin on her arm was cold to the touch and though wrapped in a splint of linen provided few answers to what was truly ailing her body. It was deemed they had been cursed by the Black Shadow, for it came from the Nazgûl. And those who were stricken with it fell slowly into an even deeper dream, and it seemed to the tenders of the sick that on the Halfling and on the Lady of Rohan this malady lay heavily. The healers remained near the beds, hoping to hear something in their murmurings that would help treat their condition, but only hurt dark words of the darkest dreams and not one of them cared to repeat such words.

Gandalf went from one to the other full of care and he was told all that the watchers could hear. The battle out of his hands now, he remained in the Houses of Healing, waiting and watching until the red light spilled from the sky. Then it seemed to those who stood by that in the glow the faces flushed softly as with health returning, yet it was just a trick of the deep red light.

The old wife, Ioreth, the eldest of the women who served within the Houses of Healing, looked upon the face of her lord Faramir and wept, for she and all people loved him. "If he should die…" she said, brushing the tears from her eyes. "He would stand a chance if there would be a King of old. The hands of the king are the hands of the healer. And so the rightful king could be known." She swallowed and looked away from Faramir, turning to meet the blue-eyed gaze of the old Wizard behind her. "If only we could trust such lore to the mythology of our days."

"Men may long remember your words, Ioreth," Gandalf replied, laying a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder. "There is hope in your words and if the men can use anything today, it is hope. Maybe a king has indeed returned to Gondor, or have you not heard the strange tidings that have come into the City?"

He was referring to the dozens of times that the errand boys had come to bring news of the battle outside. It had been near late morning when they had come with tidings of the Corsairs of Umbar, and as Gandalf smiled into his staff, so did the relieved healers when they heard that Aragorn of Arnor had come from the ships and not the pirates, which would have spelled certain doom for them all.

"I have not heard of such tidings," Ioreth replied, a hint of surprise in her tone. "I have been far too busy tending to the needs of others to hear of such things. All I care to hope for is that those murdering devils do not come to this House and trouble the sick! They need their rest!"

Gandalf silently agreed with her as he stepped out of the House. He took his staff that had been leaning against the outer wall and quickly made haste. He knew what he had to do.

x-x-x

A single horse trooped across the battle plain, stepping carefully around fallen soldiers and trotting magnificently on the fallen forms of the enemy. To one pair of Elvish eyes, the horse appeared to have sighted something of importance and was following the most direct path to that object.

Already the men who had survived were combing the wreck of the fields for survivors. A triage facility had been set up as the sons of Elrond began to work their skill at field medication. Yet, as the sun began to set, their role became futile as the doors to the city were opened and many came forth to bear the wounded to the Houses of Healing.

One thing troubled one of the sons of Elrond. All of the wounded they had seen, and the strong as well, had been men. Had there not been a woman amongst them as well?

He carefully followed the horse around the victims of the day and found it coming to a halt near the half-destroyed war tower. A figure was lying slumped at its base, and the horse was gently nudging the figure.

Buffy found herself slowly coming to. There was something wet on her face. It retracted before she felt a dull weight settle on top of her head. Moaning, she opened her eyes against the red sky and squinted up at the figure above her. It was a horse, she thought blindly as her senses came rushing back to her. It was _her _horse.

"Sador?" she asked, struggling to push herself into a seated position. Her muscles protested violently at not having been used after extreme force had been exerted on them for who knew how many hours before. "Ow," she grumbled, holding her shoulder. Her body was healing itself, she thought snidely, but she'd been hacked and slashed on the battlefield.

Sador gave a soft whine before bending down to nudge her again.

"So glad to see you, too," Buffy grumbled as she pushed Sador's head away from her face. "I'm alright," she continued, as though the horse would actually care.

Well, Sador might not care if she was dead or not, but there was a figure standing behind the horse staring at her and from the expression on his face, she knew that this man was concerned about her safety. He was bathed in the red light of the sunset and, as he drew closer, she saw that he wasn't a man, but an Elf.

"Hello," she said slowly as she used the wooden cage behind her to get to her feet. Her muscles were really angry now, she thought as she leaned against the tower, hoping to appear casual. She really didn't want to think on how she appeared, because she knew she was filthy. She was probably bloody, too. She felt disoriented after waking up so abruptly, but everything was coming back to her now.

"You are alive," said the Elf, stepping near the horse and resting a hand on the beautiful leather saddle. "Is this beast your own?"

"Yeah," Buffy said, chancing a step forward. Her body immediately fought against this decision yet she persisted in walking over to her horse. It must have been amusing to the Elf because he hid a smile behind a hand as he averted his gaze. "And I take it my walking off a field of victory is amusing to you."

"You walk as though on hot coals," the Elf replied in an apologetic tone, watching as she gently stroked Sador's beautiful mane. "You are obviously in a great deal of discomfort."

"I'll heal," Buffy protested.

"You may yet heal," the Elf said, watching as she began checking the saddle for any remnants of her once vast collection of weaponry. "I must ask you to accompany me to the City."

"You want me to go there?" she asked, turning her neck slightly to glance at the city in the distance, gleaming under a smoky haze. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You must get treatment," the Elf said, reaching for her arm. She gracefully pulled it away.

"I don't need treatment," she protested, taking a step away from him.

"But—" the Elf began to protest, but Buffy cut him off.

"Look, whoever you are, I'm sure you're a nice guy. But I don't like hospitals. I don't like treatment centers. I despise medicine. And I hate being pushed to do something I don't like doing in the first place. I suggest you back off before I get violent."

During their journey to the Paths of the Dead, Aragorn had clued them in on who this young woman really was. She was someone under the care of Gandalf and who happened to be a warrior. The Elf had seen her fight with great skill today. She had a violent temper, as Legolas had said. The Dwarf spoke fondly of her, saying she had skill worthy of any man. Aragorn spoke of her quiet leadership and her skill with many weapons, as well as her great regard for certain people. She was fond of the Rohirrim, they all had said.

She was standing before him now, her eyes blazing. She certainly didn't look very happy. She had a temper on him as he'd just seen. He'd watched her fight. And, even now in her injured state, she was considering hurting him, even though he was an immortal being thousands of years her senior. She may not get the world she now lived in, Aragorn had said in a heavy tone, but she sure knew how to fight for it.

"Please," the Elf said, reaching for her hand again. "The King asks for you. He is concerned that you have fallen in battle and to hear of this would grieve him."

Something seemed to change in Buffy's face as she gripped the saddle tightly before nodding slowly. "All right," she said, giving in. She was too tired to argue. Even on a few hours sleep, which her body seemed to be grateful for, her senses were still dulled with exhaustion. There was only so much a Slayer could take and after fighting and hacking against a few hundred thousand foes, she was ready to close her eyes again. She'd been ready to give up. She had been hoping upon closing her eyes to see Whistler's face, telling her she could finally rest at last because she had earned her eternal award. But, to her surprise and likely disappointment, she had awoken to Sador's curious tongue and a pushy Elf. If she wasn't cranky before, that had been reason enough to make her cantankerous.

She turned back to Sador and attempted to pull herself on the horse. The Elf quietly held Sador steady as Buffy mounted her mare before they turned towards the City.

"Where?" she asked, glancing down at him.

He gestured towards the many tents now being erected in the fields. "There resides Lord Aragorn," the Elf said. "I will accompany you."

She gave him a piercing, cold look and he quickly appended, "But I would dare not force a lady to do a thing against her will."

"Good," she said, taking the reins and gently nudging Sador onwards. "I would hate to have to hurt you."

They soon came upon the encampment. A steady stream of men were now entering the city, many being carried between two or three others and more still were walking under their own free will. Elladan slowed his pace and turned to his foster brother, washing his hands in a basin of water, his gaze dark and exhausted. He gazed out over the camp to see King Éomer and Prince Imrahil approaching the tent. "I see you have returned," he said, addressing Elladan. "Did you not find her?"

"I have returned with her," the Elf said, turning to gesture to the horse that had been standing beside him. But his eyes widened slightly when he realized that Sador was no longer there. "She was standing here a moment before."

"I saw only her horse," Aragorn said, pulling on his long robes and watching as the King and Prince came nearer. "This is not good tidings to tell him, for he was most concerned when he could not spot her before."

"She was alive," Elladan said adamantly, spinning in a full circle in the hopes of spotting a dark horse with a small blonde atop it. "She was right here!"

Aragorn was looking more and more doubtful by the moment. "We will find her yet," he said in a determined tone, watching as Éomer and Imrahil finally entered the camp, glancing around.

"All that could move on their own have been sent to assist the wounded into the city," Prince Imrahil said, glancing at Aragorn.

"That is good tidings," Aragorn said, before turning to Éomer, who was gazing towards the long lines of men streaming through the broken gates, frowning slightly. "Do not concern yourself for her safety," he counseled in a low tone. "She is resilient and would not suffer the fools that would harm her."

"Perhaps not," Éomer said, turning back to Aragorn. "I have lost my family and I wish not to lose my counsel as well."

Elrohir arrived a moment later and ducked under the lip of the tent. As he entered, the other knights rode up, dismounting and sending their horses off. A single hint of smoke tracked across the remaining sunlight, throwing the interior of the tent into shadow.

"Behold the sun setting in a great fire," Aragorn said, observing the light through a crack in his tent. "It is a sign of the end and fall of many things, and a change in the tides of the world. But this city and realm has rested in the charge of the Stewards for many years. I will not enter in, nor shall I make any claim, until it be seen whether we will prevail or if Mordor shall. I will remain here to await the welcome of the Lord of the City."

"But, Lord, already you have raised the banner of the kings and have displayed such tokens as that of Elendil's house," Éomer said in protest. "Will you suffer these to be challenged?"

"No," Aragorn replied heavily. "I have no reason to bring such tidings now and the situation is dire as it remains."

"Your words are kind, my lord," Prince Imrahil said with a slight bow of his head, "and wise. Yet if you will seek the counsel of one who is within the house of the Lord Denethor, you will know that he is both strong-willed and proud and will likely not take kindly to any challenge at this time. I would not have you seen like a beggar at the door."

"Not a beggar," Aragorn said. "I remain still a captain of the Rangers who are unused to cities and houses of stone." And he reached over and rolled his own banner and did off the Star on his brow, turning it over to Elrohir for safekeeping. "Keep these secret and keep these safe," he advised. "There will be a time in the future when the hurts of this world shall accept them. Now is not such a time."

"Of course," Elrohir said, taking the Star of the North-kingdom and stowing it within his robes. "What shall you do now?"

"We will take our leave from you," Prince Imrahil said, gesturing to both King Éomer and himself. "We will go to the city and assist in whichever way we can."

"I wish to see my Uncle and my sister," Éomer said in a dark tone, and though many could see that his eyes had darkened since his family had been taken from him, he was still young and was still King. "Where would they be taken?"

"The King would have been taken in highest honor to the Citadel," the Prince replied. "Any Lady of Rohan will likely be laid by his side. If you will accompany me, I will take you there."

Éomer nodded and the two said their words of parting and took their leave.

The moment Buffy had reached the encampment; she had seen the banner of Rohan blowing in the slight breeze. Her mind had suddenly become clear. She had clearly forgotten about Éowyn, the poor woman who had fought the foul beast to her own fall. Seeing that the Elf had disappeared, she had joined the queue entering the city. On horseback, she was able to maneuver around the large groups of people and debris on the main street. At last she came upon the crest of the hill and stood before the Citadel.

One of the guards took her horse the instant she dismounted it. He didn't dare ask who she was. She wore the armor of the Rohirrim and came bearing many scars of battle. She waved him off as she walked inside, her fingers working to loosen her helmet from her head.

A large litter was being lowered across the seat of the Steward. Many glanced up when she entered and a soldier of Gondor started forward when one of the Rohirrim called out, "She is one of the guards of Rohan. Leave her be."

Withdrawing his sword, he watched her move carefully towards the King's altar. Prying the helm from her head, it fell with a dull clatter on the ground.

She had to see for herself that this is what she had been brought into this world for. She had to see for herself that he had truly died in honor. She didn't know much about these people, but she had respected this man, who had taken many hard hits but had gone down fighting in the end.

The men around her were murmuring, but she paid no attention to them. She heard the sounds of torches being lit as a single beam of red sunlight fell onto the King's pale face. With bloody, bruised fingers, she gently pulled the cloth of gold from his face and folded it back to his chest. As one of the guards set his shield at his feet, he handed her the sword of the fallen King. She took it and smiled at the guard, who returned her smile humorlessly. She set the sword across his chest, the tip barely grazing the shield at his feet.

"It brings us great relief to know you are among us still, Merilin," a quiet voice said. She recognized one of the guards as he came forward and, without warning, drew her into a warm embrace. She felt awkward at this level of contact, yet awkwardly patted the man's neck a few times as he released her.

"Thank you," she said, and she genuinely meant it.

"Will you not take rest?" the man asked, watching as she returned her attention back to the place where the King was at rest.

"Not a chance," she said, walking towards the shadows and taking her seat on a bench that had been erected against the wall. "I'm staying here to watch over him."

"There are twelve of us," the man said, pointing them out. "We will stay here through the night."

"Then you'd better add one, because I'm not going anywhere," Buffy said in protest. The man didn't dare argue with her. He just patted her shoulder and returned to his post near a flickering light, but every so often she felt his gaze flicker towards her. She kept her own gaze steady as she began to unclasp her heavy armor. It was only when she felt the touch of cold wood on her fingers did she give a little start. With little effort she pried the once-broken horn from her belt.

"Oh," she said softly, staring at the small instrument in her hand. She felt a level of sentiment she wasn't so sure she should have. It had been given to her as a token for defeating their enemies on two separate occasions. It seemed only customary that after their greatest battle yet it would still remain intact and in her capable hands. She rose, lifting the trumpet into the light. Somehow, it seemed fitting that it would remain with the man who had carried his people from structured chaos to one of the biggest victories to date. It had to be a huge victory, considering full-scale battles such as that one only came around once a lifetime.

The guards glanced up as she entered their private circle, but she hardly noticed as she tucked the horn at the crook of the King's elbow. "Hey," she said, so that she would not be heard by the others behind her. "I just thought that you should know that it was… it was definitely different from what I'm used to. I've always been the one in charge and now... I hope you find your place to the halls of your Fathers. You've earned it, King of Rohan." Rising, she stroked his face with her bruised fingers. "Maybe I'll see you soon."

She took her leave then, returning to her bench. Although her wounds were beginning to ache and her breathing became painful, she refused to break. She was going to sit here forever if she had to. She wasn't guilty about the King's death, but her curiosity lied at where her path would now turn that this battle was over.

She didn't notice that King Éomer or Prince Imrahil had walked in, asking for news of the King and of Éowyn. When Éomer had heard his sister was alive, he rushed from the Citadel. He had not seen the young woman in the corner, leaning on her elbows and sighing every few seconds.

It was a few hours before someone approached her again. This time, to her surprise, it was Gandalf. "Hey there," she said, glancing up at him. He was gazing down at her with eyes full of concern.

"I should have known that you would come here of all places," Gandalf said, folding his arms and regarding her almost curiously.

"I had to make sure that he was, you know," she said, tilting her head towards the fallen man. "I couldn't help it."

"What are you waiting for?" Gandalf asked.

"I'm just waiting," Buffy said, leaning back against the wall and pressing a bloodied hand to her broken ribs.

"You are waiting perhaps for the end of the journey which has not yet come," Gandalf said quietly, edging closer to her. "Is this what you wait for?"

"Something like that," she admitted. "I mean, I've done what they asked me to. I've fought in not one but three battles. I've done all I can to counsel that man and now that he's dead..."

"The evil which has taken this land has not yet left it," Gandalf reminded her. "Sauron still remains and behind his walls the enemy is regrouping. There are Orcs and men ten thousand strong that are hidden and with that the threat of the world falling still remains." He paused a moment. "There has always been the threat of the one Ring. It has not yet occurred to their deepest thoughts that we would seek to destroy it. And yet until that Ring is destroyed, your destiny is bound to our world."

Buffy was staring at him warily before shaking her head. "You're right," she said, staring at the guards and slowly getting to her feet. "I guess we still have our battles to fight, huh?"

"We will fight later," Gandalf said, seeing the disappointment in the younger woman's eyes. "But for now we must care for all the hurting. You are still wounded, Merilin, and your movements are troubled. Will you come with me to the Houses of Healing? Aragorn has been brought to care for the others: Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, the Lady Éowyn and Meriadoc."

Her mind processed this until she reached the conclusion that Éowyn was being cared for, which meant that she was surely alive. "Éowyn is alive?" she asked in disbelief.

"She was near death when I last laid eyes upon her," Gandalf admitted. "As was the Lord Faramir and the hobbit was not far off."

Buffy was torn between her hatred of anything medical and her longing to see Éowyn alive, knowing it would bring her hope. "Okay," she said, turning at last to face the doorway. "I'll go with you. But the moment they put a needle in my sight, I'm out of there."

"Fair enough," Gandalf said, taking her arm as they moved out of the Citadel and towards the Houses of Healing.

x-x-x

In the next part, Buffy finally passes into the Houses of Healing. Her true reason for her "waiting" is uncovered as she confides in the one person she can.

Oh, and we finally get to see a bit of the heart of this fiction, including my biggest 'ship of all times… which you will see. I have rather enjoyed writing for this couple, and after what they have been through, they have earned it.


	18. Healing

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: See, this chapter did not take a month to be posted. I think this too is one of my favorites, because sometimes Buffy is forced to do something against her will and this is one of those cases. Thank you for your reviews! It means a lot that you have not given up on this story, because I fully intend to post it all! Yes, the past chapter was mostly filler, but it was necessary to advance the story. That and Merry is Trina's favorite character (not to mention she is completely obsessed over the actor who portrayed him in the films) and she wanted to write his Houses scene. This chapter and the accompanying are the last two before the group moves onto their last and final battle.

Many thanks to those of you who reviewed the previous chapter; I hope you enjoy its' conclusion.

_Greenleaf_: You deserve your own section because you have reviewed multiple times. Buffy is called Merilin only because it fits more with the world she is now investing her time and energy in. You will see her become more "Buffy" than "Merilin" as time continues onwards, because nearly everyone will be calling her "Buffy" by the time the story comes to an end. As for who she falls for, this story originally had no pairing but in the end it was decided that we would pair her with someone and it is someone she is normally not paired with. The Elves are beautiful creatures, are they not? I prefer a Glorfindel or a young Elrond myself, but the Third Age Elves are also quite pretty. I think this chapter was a huge hint about who Buffy will be paired with. We originally considered two characters and they both displayed their affection in this chapter, but only one was acknowledged as genuine affection. The weird thing over Éomer's name is an accent. It is well-known in the books and I intended to keep it that way. The same symbol is over the 'e' in both Éowyn and Éored (in other words, a battalion of Rohirrim). I will answer your other inquiries in the next chapter.

Chapter Summary: Buffy begins to realize that her journey may be coming to an end as she confides in the one person she can.

Chapter Warning: I felt as though Peter Jackson and the other movie people left out the Houses of Healing part. That is the _only _reason this is a two-part sequence. This is also from the book and from our imagination.

x-x-x

**Chapter 18**

**Healing**

_By Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

Aragorn had just left Faramir's room when there was the sound of a minor scuffle along with a shriek that carried through the narrow passageways. Both King Éomer and Prince Imrahil turned at the sound, but Aragorn's mind was focused on Éowyn alone, in her own private corner of the Houses of Healing.

"Will you not take rest?" Éomer asked, most concerned that Aragorn would soon tire and not be able to heal all of those who had fallen ill. He was torn between the concern for his sister and his friend's health and well-being.

"Nay," Aragorn replied as he looked in upon the sleeping Éowyn. "If I took rest now, surely your sister would pass. Come," he said, gesturing to the young boy carrying the basket of kingsfoil with him. "Haste is needed."

They walked into the Lady Éowyn's room, joined by Gandalf only moments later. He looked slightly bemused but his face sobered the instant his eyes took in the frailty of Éowyn's body. She seemed to have fallen into an even deeper sleep, if that were at all possible.

"Where have you been?" Aragorn asked, taking his seat next to Éowyn, his hand gently cradling her cool, pale cheek.

"I had an errand to see to," Gandalf replied in a heavy tone, watching as Aragorn continued his work.

Aragorn didn't reply to him. Instead, his intent was focused upon the Lady, who didn't stir in the least at his warm touch. "Here there is grievous hurt and a heavy blow. Her arm has been tended with due skill and the break will mend with time, if only she has the strength to live."

"Would she not have such strength?" the Prince asked quietly, gazing upon the young woman. He had not yet seen the other in their numbers, but from what he could tell, the women of Rohan carried with them both strength and courage.

"Alas," Aragorn said in his somber tone, "for she has been pitted against a foe far beyond the strength of her mind and body. To those who would take a weapon against such a foe must be as strong in mind as steel. It was an evil doom that set her in this path. If only the other could have been there. She is of due mind and strength to take on such darkness, but we cannot belay that which has already come to pass. For Éowyn is a fair maiden, and I know not how to look upon her. When I first looked upon her and saw her unhappiness, it seemed to me she was a standing white flower whose sap had turned to bitter ice soon to wither away and die. Her malady began before this day," he continued, averting his gaze as he half-turned to face the newly-stated King behind him, "did it not?"

"I do not know why you ask me, lord," Éomer said, sounding concerned and understandably beguiled. "You are not to blame in this matter. I knew not of this… this _frost _and I certainly knew none of her concerns. Care and dread she had, and shared with me, during the time of Wormtongue and the King's bewitchment. She tended to her King in growing fear. But that would not bring her to this!"

"My friend," Gandalf spoke up, leaning heavily upon his staff, "you had your deeds and your fields to tend to. Your sister tended to her king, alone and abandoned, or so she thought, in fear that it would forever be this way. She was born in body a woman, but she has a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. She was doomed to wait upon an old man she loved as a father and was destined to fade away, ignoble and unwanted.

"Think you that Wormtongue had poison for only Théoden's ears? She endured such words with her spirit in the hopes that someday she would rise above it. When Merilin first came to Meduseld, she was given her chance to realize that she was not a maiden of ice, but a maiden of steel. Her blood runs thick with the spirit of her ancestors, as does yours. My lord, if your sister's love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips, you might have heard dark words escape them. But who knows what she spoke in the bitter watches of the night?" Pausing, Gandalf shook his head. "It was her love for you and for her Uncle, a man she deemed her father, which held her to her will. You, above all others, does she love, Éomer."

Éomer stood silently beside his sister's side, watching her quiet face and fearing what would happen should she fade away. He pondered their past life together, as children with their mother and father and later on with their Uncle after the death of their father.

Aragorn, quietly watching Éomer, spoke up. "I saw also what you saw, Éomer. Few other griefs amid ill chances of this world have more bitterness and shame for a man's heart to know that he cannot return the love of a lady. I have felt sorrow and pity since I left her at Dunharrow and not even in my darkest dreams would I even believe she would be here at this time. And yet, she loves you more truly than me, for you she loves and knows. She only sees within me a shadow and a thought, a hope of glory and great deeds and lands far from the fields of Rohan."

He turned back to look at Éowyn and looked into her face. "I have the power to heal her body and to recall her mind. But to what she will awake: hope, forgetfulness or despair, I do not yet know. If she awakens to despair, she will likely die unless there is another way to heal such a curse."

"It would be a great pity," Gandalf said, moving closer as Aragorn bent down to touch her cold face. "She has shown her standard and her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown."

Aragorn said nothing as he bent down to kiss her brow and called her softly. "Éowyn! Éowyn, awake! Your enemy has passed away."

She did not stir, but her chest began to fall and rise more rapidly under the white linen sheet. "She breathes easier," the Prince said in astonishment, watching as Aragorn turned to take two leaves of athelas and cast them into steaming water. He laved her brow with it and her right arm lying cold and nerveless atop the covers. And then, whether it by his will or not, a small wind seemed to be cast from the room and blew through the window. It bore no scent, but was an air wholly fresh, clean and young.

Reaching for her hand, Aragorn attempted to call Éowyn out of her dark dreams once more. "Awake, Lady of Rohan," he said, feeling the warmth of life returning through the touch of her skin. "Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed away!"

Then, to the surprise of all standing about him, Aragorn handed Éomer the hand of his sister. "Call to her," he said quietly. "You are the one she knows!"

As Éomer took Éowyn's hand in his own, Aragorn passed quietly from the chamber. Casting a lingering look at Éomer and the emotions spreading across the young man's face, he soon followed the Ranger out.

"You have done a right duty," Gandalf said, leaning his staff against the door and looking at Aragorn almost appraisingly.

"She was not mine to call upon," Aragorn replied, wiping his hands on the hem of his robes. "Where is it that you went to?"

"Merilin," Gandalf replied. "I found her alive and quite well in the Citadel, though with her hurts I know not how she managed to find her way. She refused to leave Théoden's side, although I told her that her journey was incomplete."

Aragorn shook his head and sighed. "There in that woman lies the true spirit of a warrior and not that of a queen," he said. "She has more lives than that of a cat, if she lives still."

There was the sound of a loud thud from the other end of the corridor.

"Not only does she live still," Gandalf said, smirking into his beard, "but she openly insists that no one treat her ills."

"I will look in upon her once I have treated Meriadoc," Aragorn said simply as he turned to leave the hallway. "I will see you then." Gandalf gave him a courteous nod and turned back into the Lady Éowyn's room to see her open her eyes and gaze upon her brother.

Éomer stood by her side, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye. There was blatant joy on his face and all of those observing could sense he loved his sister.

"Éomer," Éowyn said, her tone sleepy as she gazed at her brother and at his companions lining the room. "What joy is this? For they said that you were slain, and of Merilin—" She cut herself off with a choked-up half-sob and turned her head to look at the others. "How long have I been dreaming?"

"Not long, my sister," said Éomer. "But think no more on it."

"I am strangely weary," Éowyn replied, stretching out her right arm, which had once been deemed useless. "I must rest a little. But tell me, what of the Lord of the Mark? Do not tell me that it was a dream for I know that it was not."

"He is dead," Éomer said, bowing his head. "But he bade me say farewell to Éowyn, whom he considered dearer than daughter. He lies now in great honor in the Citadel of Gondor."

"That is grievous," Éowyn said in a tone that suggested she was more than hurt by these tidings. "And yet it is good beyond all I dared hope, for the darkest days spoke that the House of Eorl had sunk in honor less than any shepherd's cot." She took a deep breath and once again seemed to be forcing something from her mind. "Tell me, Éomer, what of Merilin and the King's esquire?"

"Of Merilin, I do not know," Éomer said, looking troubled by admitting this, "but of the Halfling, he lies nearby at the House."

"You must make him a knight of the Riddermark, for he has shown valiance," Éowyn insisted, her eyes glittering oddly.

"You shall, too, make Merilin such a knight," Gandalf said quietly from the doorway. Seeing the look on the siblings' faces, he held up his hand. "She lives still, but she was injured gravely. She remained at the Citadel watching over the Lord of the Mark until I had to nearly drag her away."

A small smile broke out on Éowyn's face, while Éomer looked visibly relieved. "That brings me some hope," she admitted, looking from one to the other.

"She lives," Gandalf said quietly, "and I will go to her after I see to the Halfling. Great gladness it is to see you wake again, Lady Éowyn."

"To health, it may be," Éowyn said, shifting on her cot uneasily, "but to hope, I do not yet know."

Gandalf bowed his head and retreated from the room, leaving the siblings together in silence. The moment she knew the Wizard was out of earshot, she turned to her brother to see the look on his face. "It pleases you to hear she lives still."

"She risked much to go to war in our name," he replied curtly.

"There is reason beyond simple matters of battle," Éowyn prompted gently as she leaned against her pillows. "She rode with you in battle, my brother."

"I know this," he said, sounding irritated she had called him on this, of all things.

"Perhaps there is more that you are unwilling to admit yet," she said carefully.

He turned and fixed her with a dark, steely look. "I was far too concerned with your health moments ago," he said darkly, "and now to listen to your talk on this!"

Éowyn closed her eyes and smiled against her will. She really wanted to cry or scream out or something else, but this moment was just too good for her to lose. "You should go to her and bring her tidings from us both," she said at last. Éomer's glare was worth it, she thought, watching her brother stalk to the doorway and glance out. Just as his head tucked back inside, a clay pitcher flew into the hallway and smashed against the opposite wall.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing?" Buffy gasped, getting ready to throw the clay bedpan as well. Elladan, standing in the doorway, immediately regretted his first order of business, which had been to tend to her broken ribs. Instead, he was face-to-face with a small blonde figure with hazel eyes of fire and a temper to match.

"I will not harm you," he said, placing his hands in the air and watching her turn to look at him, her bruised hands on her hips.

"Oh, really?" she asked, pointing to what appeared to be a scalpel that had been embedded into the wall minutes before. "Were you planning on gutting me?"

"I am here to tend to your injuries," Elladan replied, quietly pulling out the cutter and setting it down on a nearby table. "Would you please sit down so that I may tend to your care?" He took one look at the determined, rebellious look on her face before he knew he had to threaten her anyway he could. "I will call Gandalf to our location if you do not," he finally said.

After glaring at him, she sat slowly, one bloodied hand moving to her chest as she coughed a bit. "All right," she said darkly, watching as he moved to her side, setting down a bowl of water and a cloth. "But so help me, if I see any needles…"

He was able to remove her outer layer of armor and gently cleanse the cuts on her arms, neck and face before she began to stir uncomfortably under his touch.

"Perhaps it would be best if you lay down," he said calmly. She looked at him before complying. It was obvious that her exhaustion was winning out over her will to disobey any words that came from his mouth.

She was asleep shortly thereafter. He was able to treat the rest of her cuts before lifting the hem of her tunic and examining her abdomen. He cringed when he saw the deep blues and purples spread across her fair skin. He gently cleansed her skin before taking a wrap and gently soaking it in warm water and herbs brought from the store. After he had securely bound her ribs, he took gentle care and glanced over her other injuries. She stirred only twice but did not wake up. He could see from her face that her dreams were far from pleasant, but his sole concern at the moment was treating her ailments.

Hearing a sound at the doorway, Elladan turned to see Aragorn walk slowly into the room, his eyes on the woman sleeping on the cot. "She is restless," Aragorn said quietly.

"I have tended to her needs as best I dare," Elladan replied, rising from her cot and turning her care to his foster brother.

"I have only a moment to spare," Aragorn said, tipping his head to the doorway. "Word that the King has returned and is able to heal has reached the ears of many. There are more to heal than space will allow."

"I will see what I can do," Elladan said and, with a passing glance at the blonde on the cot, he disappeared.

Aragorn sat down and touched her face. Buffy began to stir until her eyelids fluttered and she saw a face in glowing white light above her. "Oh," she moaned quietly. "After all of this, please don't tell me I'm dead. You could have killed me before he made with the torture!"

Aragorn caught her flailing hand and held it tight within his grasp. "Merilin, wake up. There is no reason to fear—"

"Don't let me go," she said, her jaw twisting. Aragorn saw the deep welts and cuts lining that part of her face and felt oddly fortunate he had escaped through the battle relatively unscathed and unmarked. "I don't want to go… I don't want to die."

Releasing her hand, he took her by the shoulders, lifting her small body into his arms. With a few shakes, her head flopping back and forth like that of a rag doll, she finally came to her senses and took his arms with a grasp that made him wince. "What are you doing?" she asked in disbelief, taking another second before pushing his hands away.

"You were having a nightmare," Aragorn said, rubbing his shoulders as he rose to his feet. She was glaring at him now, her eyes darkening with anger.

"It wasn't a nightmare," she defended, shrugging her shoulders and moving down to the pillows painfully. "It was something else."

"You need rest. You are no use to us half-dead," Aragorn protested, watching her eyes move back to meet his.

"It really doesn't matter," she said, turning her face away to look at the wall.

"Rest well," he said, moving to the doorway. "I will tend to you later, but for now there are others who need to be cared for."

She didn't say anything. Her mind was wrapped around the feeling of being in someone's warm embrace. The last time she'd had that, it had been with Spike. She had no need in this world for such attachments, but it was a cold reminder of something she didn't have and would never have again. Here she was, given a second chance at life, and the only people she was surrounded by were men! It seemed cruelly ironic that she was stuck in this world surrounded by men who actually cared for her on a level other than loving her.

And then there was the issue of her vision… it had to be a vision and not a nightmare. Blinking, she sighed as she rested her head against the cool pillow, feeling her scented skin relax against the cot. It was quite uncomfortable and yet she felt as though she could sleep chained upside down right about now.

It was deep into the night when Elladan came to check on her. Her back was turned to him and he gently turned her back over, gazing at the bruises on her face. He felt his brow furrowed as he examined her. Was it just his imagination or were there fewer abrasions than there had been a few hours before?

Although the Houses were full of those needing aid and healing hands, those who had already received care had dropped off to sleep.

Éomer walked through the Houses after Éowyn had finally dropped off. At last he found the room where Merilin had been tucked away. She was resting on her side, her body curled protectively. He gazed at her face and saw a passive calm and felt something stir inside of him. Was this the woman who, hours before, had told his people that they would stop for nothing short of victory? She was so small and yet her heart was far larger than many knew. She had many lives as she fought valiantly with every level of battle.

He moved into her room and found it empty aside from her. He took to the bench out of sight from the doorway and watched her sleep, fascinated. Already her bruises were healing and, as he continuously watched her, her breathing became easier.

He drifted off to sleep near daybreak, only opening his eyes when bright sunlight fell across his face from the sliver of doorway within his sights. She was still bathed in darkness and he quietly rose and went to her side, reaching down to touch her warm face. She stirred lightly under his touch, and her hand reached up to cover his.

He was startled at this contact and quickly withdrew his hand, watching as she easily settled back into slumber. He had no idea how to react to something that personal, considering his life had been spent in the fields and with the horses. The only woman he truly knew was his sister and yet…

He heard the sound of a throat clearing behind him and turned about to see Gandalf standing in the doorway, shrouded by the light behind him. His face wore a curiously bemused expression as he surveyed the King and his own charge, sound asleep. "I see that Buffy has been well cared for this night," he said in a pleasant tone.

Éomer couldn't deny the Wizard the satisfaction of knowing he was right. He just cast one last glance at the woman sleeping at his side before moving past the Wizard and out into the morning.

Gandalf watched Buffy sleep for a few moments before examining her face. On closer inspection, she did appear to heal very quickly. Most of the bruises were gone except for a large one along her jaw. There were two deep cuts on her face that had been cleaned, but traces of such scars remained, marred into her perfect, pale skin. As he moved away, a sliver of sunlight fell across her face. She opened her eyes and found the Wizard stooping only a few inches above her face.

"Hello," she said slowly, pushing herself into a seated position, her hands rubbing the traces of sleep from her eyes.

"You appear to be healing rapidly," Gandalf said, moving out of the light, allowing it to bathe the young woman, who blinked and gazed out of the doorway.

"I feel good," she said blandly. She stretched out her arms, feeling no ill-effects from dislocating her shoulder the day before. She pressed her bandaged hands to her ribs and, despite a slight twinge of pain when she pressed hard onto them, they felt healed. Upon removing the linen bandages from her hands, she saw that only a few abrasions remained. The last of her battle scars was the welt and bruise along her jaw bone, but it too had nearly healed, leaving only a trace of blue on her skin.

"I am quite pleased to hear this," Gandalf said, taking the clay bowl from the small table and handing it to her. "If you clean up now, I will meet you outside in the gardens."

Buffy took the bowl and quickly wiped her face and arms with the linen cloth before rising. She set the bowl back onto the table and lifted the hem of her tunic, examining her snugly-wrapped ribs. She felt her face tint pink slightly at the thought of capable hands touching her skin with such close proximity to other areas she wouldn't want any hands to touch. Spying a blanket on top of her folded armor, she pulled around her shoulders and walked out into the sunlight.

She was at the end of a long passageway, with doors lining the far side. Beautiful archways made up the secondary wall leading out into the garden. She spied Gandalf sitting at one of the non-working fountains and tilted her head, considering him for a moment. He spied her standing under the arches and beckoned her forward.

"I do not have much time, as Aragorn has asked for words," he said by way of greeting as she took a seat next to him. "I wanted to make certain you were well."

"I am," she said, her eyes still scanning her surroundings. He was watching her reaction carefully, not quite liking the look of her eyes. "What is this place?"

"They call it the Houses of Healing," Gandalf replied.

"So… it's your basic hospital?" she asked, an accusatory note in her tone. "I don't suppose during your time watching my life you saw that I happened to _not like _hospitals."

"I saw that you had discomfort," Gandalf admitted. "Yet I realized that once you saw that all could be treated, you would—"

"Just because Aragorn is standing around playing Doctor doesn't mean I'll ever trust these places," she said bitingly. "I just thought you should know that, in case you ever have to bring me here again. I'd rather die on the battlefield than have parts amputated and needles injecting God-knows-what into me."

He could see that she was very set in mind about this and moved on to his next course of action. "Aragorn has asked that the Warden keep the Lady Éowyn and the Steward Faramir safe inside these walls for the time being. Faramir does not yet know of his father's insanity or death. And the Lady Éowyn would surely insist on accompanying the Rohirrim on whatever end may come."

"I see," Buffy said quietly.

"I must ask you to take rest," Gandalf said, his voice dropping. "We still have great things before us, in my case in the least. Your journey in this world has only begun."

"No," she said, shaking her head as she glanced up at him. "I mean, I'll stay here if that's what you want. But as for my journey only beginning, I don't know about that." She looked troubled as she turned away. He rested his hand on her shoulder before rising.

"I will speak everything that is said," he advised her. "For now, I must take my leave."

She watched him go before standing up and walking to the edge of the gardens. Already the sunlight was fading behind grey clouds that seemed to be swarming from the east. Pulling her blanket tighter about her, she stared at the city below, feeling melancholy.

Part of her wanted to see Éowyn, because knowing that she lived would actually give her faith in such a House. She gazed around the gardens and saw that they were empty. She walked back into the corridors, the last of the sunlight waning as she left the outdoors behind.

It wasn't difficult to find her. There were others standing outside her door and the sound of a low female voice residing inside. Ducking past a few of the elder women dressed in cloaks both long and dark, Buffy saw Éowyn resting on her own cot, her arm held on top of the coverings. Her eyes lifted when she saw who had cast her into shadow. Slowly, they brightened as she rose, causing Éomer, who had not yet seen this figure enter, to start.

"Merilin," Éowyn said, blinking slowly as she gazed at the young woman before her.

"Éowyn," Buffy said, a small smile breaking across her face.

"It brings me small hope to see you live," Éowyn said.

"Same here," Buffy said, walking further into the room. She gave Éomer a quiet nod of greeting before turning her attention back to Éowyn. "How are you feeling?"

"The dark thoughts come and go," Éowyn admitted, speaking on a topic that Éomer had refused to bring up with her. She knew her brother would be angry if Buffy were to keep on speaking of such dark tidings and quickly rose to switch to a topic of her own choosing. "How feel you?"

"I'm alright," Buffy said, taking the chair Éomer had been using only a few seconds before and sitting atop it. "I've got a little headache but after everything I went through yesterday, I have nothing to complain about."

"I wish I could speak of such good news," Éowyn said, gesturing to her fractured arm. "Alas, I cannot."

"Hey," Buffy said, reaching over and patting Éowyn's shoulder. "It's good news to see you moving around again. Don't think it isn't."

There was a sound at the door. Buffy craned her neck to see an unfamiliar man standing there, staring curiously at her. Before Buffy could speak, Éomer stepped forward.

"Is this she?" the man asked, gesturing toward Buffy, who rose behind Éomer, looking slightly annoyed.

Éomer nodded and stepped to the side, slipping his arm around Buffy's shoulders to draw her forward. "This is Merilin, who rides with counsel for the Rohirrim," he said, as she stepped forward, holding out her hand. "Merilin, this is Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth of Gondor."

"I have heard of you," Buffy said, as the Prince tentatively reached out to shake her hand. "It's… a pleasure."

"Indeed," he said, shaking her hand. "I have heard your name but had yet to see your face."

So, Buffy thought vaguely to herself, she was starting to make an impression on the others around her. They were remembering what she did, sort of like what had happened back at home. That took away a bit of the sting left over from her vision.

"King Éomer, my Lord Aragorn has asked for us to meet with him outside of the city," Prince Imrahil said, coming to do his own business.

Éomer nodded and turned to his sister. "Will you be—?"

"Go," Buffy said, nudging him away from her and nearly sending him out of the doorway and into the Prince. "I'll look after her."

"Are you certain?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed her face. "Will you not come with us?"

"Not this time," Buffy admitted, making shooing motions. "Now, go."

Still looking quite confused, he shook his head and left with Imrahil, leaving Buffy and Éowyn alone at last. But Éowyn looked as though she wanted to settle down for a nap, so bidding her farewell and promising to look after her a bit later, Buffy left her room.

The gardens were occupied now, she saw. There was a tall figure and a much stouter figure walking through. She waited in the shadows until they had passed before she moved into the shady light. The Elf had paused in his movements as the Dwarf continued on. His eyes appeared concerned when he saw the young woman walking briskly across the cold garden to come to rest at the edge, her fingers on the rail.

"Will you go and collect them?" Legolas asked Gimli quickly. The Dwarf nodded and the Elf doubled back. He knew that he shouldn't intervene, but the look on her face was reason enough for him to get involved. "My lady?"

"I should have known you'd be the one to sense it," she said after a pregnant pause. She turned to him and saw the look on her face. She wasn't looking very happy.

"I sense that you have more in your thoughts than you let on," he said quietly. "Is this what concerns you?"

She couldn't hold it in anymore. She had to tell someone. "I can't tell a lot of people around here. I never thought I'd make any attachments. I can't tell Gandalf. He sees me as his charge, someone he's mothering into some role he has planned for my future. Can't really tell Aragorn; he considers me to be someone who can fight by his side. And as for the Rohirrim, they're the last people I can tell. I don't know the others, but I don't think they'd care if they did." Her face tightened. "I had a dream… only, it wasn't a dream. It was more like a vision. Slayers get them sometimes. They're like prophecies, only they concern my future."

Legolas glanced at her. "I will hold you to your word," he said, resting his hand near hers.

"They can never know," she said firmly, turning to look him in the eye. "They can never know the truth, Legolas. What I saw in my dreams terrified me. I know I've been through so much. I've only been here a short time and already I can't imagine not wanting to rest in peace." Seeing that he appeared to want to hear the truth outright, she finally managed to get it out without the pretense. "I'm not going to live to see the end of the war. I'm not going to see these days renewed. I won't see Aragorn get his throne and I'll never Rohan again." She noticed the concern spreading across the Elf's face and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm not afraid for the end to come. I thought it already had. I've accepted this and I know that it's going to be hard, but, in the end, how many of you will really remember me?"

"They will always remember you," Legolas said. "You have done great things for Rohan. You have brought—"

"They will remember a fighter," Buffy said, cutting him off again. "They will not remember me. Maybe it's better to just cut myself off from them. I'm their counsel, as Gandalf has told me I am again and again. But I'm nothing more."

"I will keep your words to myself," Legolas assured her, seeing that she feared he would tell someone else. "Do not believe for a moment you have not made a difference."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Buffy said, giving him a tight smile as she drew the blanket closer to her shoulders. "I'm just waiting for it all to end. I'll do my part, but when that's over…" She trailed off, not certain on how to continue.

He could not think of anything to say, but watched her as she turned and walked away.

x-x-x

In the next part, the final debate and a few awkward conversations.

Oh, and we finally get to see a bit of the heart of this fiction, including my biggest 'ship of all times… which you will see. I have rather enjoyed writing for this couple, and after what they have been through, they have earned it.


	19. Just Words

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: In complete repentance for the lack of updating, I will answer each review with a response. I do not do this often (that I recall), but it is fun taking the time to do. I should do it more often.

_Lorency: Unfortunately, yes. That is the way the Slayer operates. I see it as how she somewhat acted after the return from her second death. Sadly enough for her, the plan to cut herself off does not go as smoothly as expected. In fact, a few people are about to pick up on her plan._

_Sukera: Making a quick update? Well, I will just apologize now. I will try to get a chapter out a week. But, right now, that seems… laughable. Thank you, by the way._

_Rcaqua: Well… I cannot give away all of my secrets now, can I? I keep saying that the chapters will give it away. Well… if I read my own chapters ahead, the answer will become painfully obvious in the next chapter or so._

_Evilelvengoddess: Thank you very much, my dear._

_Serpent of Light: Could you imagine if Buffy had done that? I would have been laughing my ass off, excuse the language. She may be a little rough around the edges when it comes to dating men (and Éomer is only about five years her senior when you consider the birth date, the dates in question and her own age) but Éomer has likely never doted on a female other than his sister or a female mare before. I would almost pity any man who would face that sort of harsh reality. And I most definitely agree with you about Buffy as the favorite Slayer and Middle-earth as my favorite world. Buffy's good favoring will help her down the line a bit, opening up a few options and, well, determining how she will try to shut her new "people" out of her life._

_Nicessus: Truthfully, I despise cliffhangers. I am so frustrated with some writer's inability to actually complete that final sentence that I was forced to create my own. You have my apologies. And thank you for your kind words!_

_Russa: I cannot give away the details to her dream yet… but they were a little… scary. Buffy confiding in Legolas was for one reason and one reason alone – he can understand what it is like to be called home. Gandalf will not accept this as he sees Buffy for more of a successor than a woman, but Legolas can see a woman who hears the call of the "west". I figured that she would have a better chance in confiding in an immortal. It has nothing to do with trusting Éomer, because she does trust him. She wouldn't have fought beside him in the largest battle yet if she didn't. It had nothing to do with saving the world. She was sent to counsel Théoden and after his death, she should have been released from her binding contract… and yet, the world really isn't ready to let her go… yet. _

Chapter Summary: Awkward conversations follow the last debate, leading to big decisions and the painful truth… but for one pair, it is just the beginning.

Chapter Warning: Aside from the small bit at the beginning, this is mostly a chapter of Buffy facing what the Rohirrim want from her. I really do not like this chapter considering how awkward it really is, but I felt as though the next chapter is one I really wanted to get to. I advanced the story long enough to tell you that they will advance towards Ithilien in the next chapter. Because this chapter is basically another "filler", I will confide the battle chapter comes after the following. It is somewhat separated into two sections, and then… the fun begins.

x-x-x

**Chapter 19**

**Just Words**

_By Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

Legolas was lost in thought even as he heard the sounds of conversation behind him. He wasn't keen to join in, but these Halflings were his friends and they earned the right to hear about the adventure they had not been on. He was about to speak when he heard the call of sea-faring birds above his head and pointed into the sky, drawing the others' attention towards them.

"Look!" he cried. "Gulls! They are flying inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships."

As the others craned their necks to follow his gaze, he suddenly felt himself wondering if this is what had drawn Merilin to such a conclusion; to accept death as a known future rather than working to defeat it. He felt the call of the west. Perhaps, just perhaps, she felt the call too. He thought for a moment on why she had confided in him. Perhaps she knew that he too felt the allure of what happened beyond life. Or, perhaps, she felt something towards him that led her to believe that he alone was one she could confide in.

His last assumption was that she confided in him because there had not been another that would be unhurt by her words. He felt that this was the true reason and even as he saw with keen eyes the seafaring birds beat to the north, he knew that he had found a kindred soul amongst these humans. Even the Dwarf knew enough of death to know that it was final and absolute. The Dagnir had been through more than her fair share of hardships, but her death had never been cold and absolute. It was solitary and steadfast, determining to keep her within the throes of the world. This he did not deem fair, nor did he care to think of it anymore. Gimli had turned his Dwarven eyes to him and the Hobbits were gazing expectantly at him. They expected him to tell the story of the Paths of the Dead. Recalling the terrible fury and calm on Aragorn's face, Legolas mildly recounted the tale.

x-x-x

Buffy was resting in her small room admiring the play of sunlight on the far walls when a shadow came across the doorway. "It's about time," she said, rolling off of the cot and turning towards the door. "I thought you would never—"

Her voice cut off when she saw who was standing in the doorway. She had been expecting Gandalf to bring her word of Aragorn's debate, but to her surprise, Éomer was standing there.

"Hi," she said, sitting back on her cot and folding her arms. "You're not an old, grey-haired Wizard."

"Well met," he replied curtly, stepping into the room. "I have asked to be the one to bring you tidings, as you are the counsel of Rohan and not some Wizard's pupil."

She tilted her head as she considered his words before a smile broke across her face. "All right," she agreed, leaning back against the wall. "What tidings are there to bring me?"

He really did not know how to respond to her. There had been a moment in front of the fires as Dunharrow that he knew she was the most extraordinary woman he had ever met. Even though it had been a week before, he had yet to confront his feelings on that evening. They had spoken so seldom since and now that he finally had the chance to speak his mind, he was going to do it the right way. His heart betrayed his thoughts, though. How was he to tell this woman that she could surely ride to her doom?

"We are to ride in full-force to the gates of Sauron," Éomer said, watching her face for her reaction. "Aragorn feels it best to confront Sauron head-on in an attempt to turn his eye from the Halflings bent on destroying the Ring."

"I see," she said. She still wouldn't meet his eyes. Her gaze was on the floor as she nodded slowly. "Do I have any say on what happens?"

"I only ask that you ride with Rohan one last time," Éomer said. Buffy looked up at these words and studied his face carefully.

"I'm assuming you mean the last time of my life and not the last time before I become someone you want me to be," she said, her tone level. "I don't cook. I suck at cleaning. I'm even worse at pretty much everything else you said I should know. You've been wrong about me from the beginning."

He took a step backwards as he attempted to evade her infamous temper. "I was wrong about you," he said at last. This time, she looked into his eyes, her gaze curious. "I will not often admit when I am wrong about such things." He caught himself though before he went further and quickly looked away.

She dropped her gaze then and drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. "Are you finally going to admit I can kick your ass?" she asked lightly.

He nodded. "Not in such colorful words will I admit this," he said in a deepening tone, "but I will admit you are a superior fighter and one that any man would feel pride to fight alongside of."

She looked stunned. "Okay, I'll take that as an apology," she said slowly. It was as though she were trying to believe that what she had heard was the truth.

"The war will soon be over," Éomer continued, neatly interjecting before she could say anything else. "Rohan will await my return and I hope she will await your return."

Buffy swallowed hard. This is what he wanted to talk about? She shifted uncomfortably as he moved closer to her. She didn't want to admit what her vision had foretold, but if he kept prattling on about finding her a permanent residence in his home country, she was going to have to say something. Besides, didn't returning to Rohan depend on one's survival through war's end? She'd seen Éomer return from the fields with few scratches and bruises, which she assumed was luck.

"I wondered and have been asked whether you would accept any command," Éomer said, looking away. "The men would follow you to any end. They have seen you as a fighter."

"What do you see me as?" she asked him, tipping her face onto her knees so that she could gaze up at him.

"I saw you fight against creatures far larger in stature to yourself and still you had courage and strength of arms," he replied. "I would have once seen you as a unique individual, but now I can call you my friend. It would be an honor to make you a captain or more."

"Why don't we wait and see what happens when the war ends?" Buffy responded. "If we both survive the end of it, we'll talk titles then, okay? We have to concentrate on doing whatever it is we're supposed to do. Fancy names can wait."

He looked at her for a moment before nodding. She rose to walk out of her room when she saw that he hadn't moved. "Was there something else?" she asked curiously.

He gazed up at her with such a look she felt a small shiver start at the base of her spine. She felt her breath catch despite her every intention to put the personal stuff aside. She couldn't even consider him to be anything other than a King she fought under. To consider him as anything else would have far too many consequences…

She had sworn to herself that she would cut off all contact with those she considered dear to her. That unfortunately included the new King of Rohan and his sister, the latter whom she considered a friend.

"I don't think this is the right time to talk about this," she said hurriedly, not wanting him to continue. If he did, she was going to lose something or else have to kill him very, very painfully. The intensity in his eyes alone scared her, and they reminded her of a feeling she had not frequently had in this world. She felt wanted for something other than fighting the latest bad or teaching others to fight. She was wanted as a woman. And here she'd been trying to convince Legolas that they would only remember her as a fighter. Now it seemed to her the impression had gone deeper than she thought. She had to end it now.

"I apologize for your discomfort," he said, glancing down. "I have known you for so little time and yet the differences you have made to my people have brought me to respect you even more."

"Oh," she said slowly, turning back to face him. "You respect me… that's always good."

"I am not one who is comfortable to speak of feelings and emotions," he said, giving an impatient wave of his hand. "I have spent my life in the fields and with the men. To speak of matters of the heart is unknown to me. When I thought you dead, I feared for your safety and the safety of my men. Yet when Gandalf came and said you lived, I felt far more relieved than I thought I should. I have come to care for you a lot more than I should."

"Oh, don't," she said, springing backwards as he took a step towards her. "Really, don't. I can't do this again."

"I have not asked you for anything," he said sternly, seeing the look in her eyes. Although she rarely showed emotion, she looked as though she were ready to run from the room. "You are one of us now, Merilin… Buffy," he said, choosing to use her given name. "To lose you would bring many to despair. They would have it no other way than to see you as you are."

She nodded. She understood what he meant. But there were so many unknowns in her life that for him to actually plan her life after a war she was certain she wouldn't live through wasn't a very smart move. That tended to lead towards things like hope, and that was something she'd forsaken. She'd accepted the prospect of never seeing certain people again. She accepted the fact she wasn't going to live much longer. The Elf understood this, because what Gandalf had told her was that once they arrived in Arda, they would always feel the call of the west. Her explanation that she longed for the same end was nearly the same.

"Thank you," she said, gesturing lamely. "It means something that you think more of me than some common house maid."

"I would not have you any other way," he replied.

That answer didn't really surprise her as much as it should have. He had been fighting her skills since the first time they met, thinking her to be in the kitchen bent over a fire instead of fighting alongside men. It must have been her fighting which had swayed his mind so. To see him look and act the way he had was the only surprising act, but she thought she got off lightly compared to what could have happened. She watched him leave and felt compelled to go after him, but desisted. To do so would mean she was saying something she wasn't sure she was ready to. She had to cut herself off, but these people were making it so damned difficult!

She rose then, traipsing into the gardens. Éowyn must still be in her room, she decided, glancing at the people now circling around the gardens. As she was about to pull back, she caught something out of the corner of her eye that took her by some surprise.

On one of the plants she thought dead, there was a single green leaf growing.

It was a sign, she thought, touching the pale leaf and holding it within her warm grasp. Though cut off from the sunlight, the color seemed to deepen to life in the palm of her hand. The sign was clear. Hope wasn't such a lost thing after all. Hope was what made people believe they had a shadow's chance at accomplishing what they were about to attempt. There was something tucked deep within her as well, hoping that the vision she had seen would not come to pass. There was a hope that she would finally see an end to the evil plaguing all of these good people.

It was also a sign that spoke that not everything that was dead was lost and forsaken. That alone seemed to pull her out of her reverie even as she caught the gaze of a figure across the gardens. She smiled slowly and continued on to the corridors, looking forward to holding up her end to an old promise, one that she would shamefully have to break.

x-x-x

"Something wears on your mind," Éowyn said in her calming tone as Buffy settled into the chair across from her cot, preparing to spend some time with a woman she had promised to look after. Buffy shrugged as she turned back to face the young woman.

"It's nothing," she said quickly, forcing a small smile.

"Your eyes deceive your words," Éowyn said cryptically, leaning against her pillows. "You are riding with them, are you not?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, I'm going back to war. Sometimes it seems like it never ends."

"If this war does come to an end, what will become of you, Buffy?" Éowyn asked quietly.

"I don't know," she said, giving the most honest answer. "I've spent so much time fighting that I never look past today to see tomorrow. Some days I think I'm not going to make it, and then I do. Something happens and I pull through and there are always more battles to fight."

"The evil is different here," Éowyn admitted. "There will always be the creatures of darkness that you have spoken of, but the master that guides their arms will not always exist."

"I know," Buffy said, shrugging again.

"There will not always be another battle," Éowyn said, gently prompting Buffy to speak more. Instead, she received an annoyed look before the younger woman sighed. It was obvious that Éowyn had something on her mind. "The journey does not end when you think."

"So the Wizard tells me," Buffy said quietly.

"There is hope now that you remain by my brother's side," Éowyn replied. "You have become one of us."

"That was never my intention," Buffy said, her tone a little sharper than necessary. "I came here to do whatever needed to be done. I did it. My journey should have already ended. But it hasn't. Not yet. Gandalf tells me this final battle will decide the fate of all of the nations here. Éomer came to tell me what they discussed and they decided on an offensive."

"Do you not agree with them?" Éowyn asked.

Buffy shook her head. "No, I agree it's time we take the battle to Sauron. If he's looking for the one Ring and those two Hobbits are trying to slay it, then a diversion would make sense." She paused a moment, uncertain as to how to continue. "A lot of good men may lose their lives."

"A lot of men have already lost their lives in these battles," Éowyn said forcefully, "including my Uncle."

"He was a good man," Buffy said, giving Éowyn a shadow of a smile. "It was an honor to ride to war with him."

"You ride now with Éomer," Éowyn continued, a smile spreading over her lips. For some reason, the motion seemed to make Buffy even more irritable.

"He isn't nearly as sexist as he was," Buffy grudgingly admitted. "And he fights well for a man."

Éowyn looked down at her hands, wondering whether or not she should continue. She finally decided to add a last bit. "He has taken to you," she said slowly. "He finds you formidable in battle."

Buffy frowned before she let out a short, sharp laugh. "He would, wouldn't he?" she asked, tilting her head back, tears coming to her eyes.

"Yes," Éowyn said. The tone of her voice shook Buffy from her amusement. "This is not something he would easily admit to. He has come to care about what would happen to you."

Buffy blinked, suddenly feeling awkward. "Well, he shouldn't," was the only thing she could think of to say.

"It is difficult to halt what has already started," Éowyn warned. "I see more than he would care to admit. He strays from a topic he finds disconcerting to discuss. You are one of them."

That would certainly explain their conversation that morning, Buffy thought with a shiver.

"If the war ends and you both still live," Éowyn quietly continued on, "he would see to it that you were made a residence in Rohan. You are his greatest knight and even he would be foolish to admit otherwise."

"I didn't think he was as bad as they made him out to be," Buffy mused, thinking of what she had heard of the men. "He's no teddy bear, but there is something about him."

"I wish to see my brother happy," Éowyn said, starting to feel annoyed that Buffy wasn't catching on as quickly as she would have liked her to. Buffy was supposed to be Gandalf's left-hand woman. She was acting as stubborn as her brother was at this moment. No wonder he had feelings for her… she would be as unlikely to yield to him as he was to her! "You would be—"

"Okay," Buffy said, standing up suddenly. "That is just a bad, bad direction to go."

Éowyn looked up at her in surprise. "Merilin?" she asked in her most innocent tone.

"No," Buffy said, swallowing hard as she felt the discomfort return. "Don't even think for a second that your brother and I could… I mean, he's a good fighter, but as… no." She shook her head quickly. She wasn't about to tell Éowyn about her vision. But, if by some miracle she managed to survive whatever Sauron had to throw at them, the idea of being courted by a King was about as unlikely as Buffy winning Prom Queen. "He's a King and I'm… dead. Or I was." And, she reminded herself, soon would be again.

But Éowyn was still smiling at her.

"What?" Buffy asked, her old snap in her tone.

"You did not deny that you felt nothing towards him," she said, tilting her head thoughtfully.

She knew she had forgotten something. But she wasn't about to lie to the one woman she could count on. Hell, any woman who would hide her identity and fight in a war alongside men was worth trusting at the most opportune moments. Fortunately, this did not count as one of them.

"It wouldn't matter if I did," she heard her own voice said, as flippantly as though Éowyn had asked about the weather.

"You fight because you were chosen to, as you have told me before," Éowyn said, her eyes boring into Buffy's. "He fights because he must."

Buffy could see where Éowyn was going with this. "Even if I were to live past whatever Aragorn is predicting is going to happen out there, it wouldn't change anything. I came here to help end a war. Once the war is over, my journey ends."

"What will become of you?" Éowyn asked, getting back to her original question.

"I don't know," Buffy admitted. "I'm still waiting to figure it out. These things aren't ever easy… in fact, sometimes they're damned hard."

"But, you were brought here, were you not?" Éowyn asked, gazing at the other woman as she slowly sank back into her chair. "Perhaps now, those who have chosen your fate will give the choice to you."

Buffy nodded slowly. The two stared silently at one another while Buffy was fighting her feelings. Confronting them was one thing, but having someone convince her she felt one way while she was half-convinced she felt the other was a whole new thing. Half of her wanted to leave this room and part as painlessly as possible. The other half didn't want to move. She wanted to feel the comfort of companionship, one last time.

She may never have this again, she thought, surveying Éowyn with a pensive look. She'd always had female friends like Willow and even, to an extent, Anya who had powers and fought boldly and bravely at whatnot. It had to be the same thing, right?

Rising, she finally left Éowyn to her own room, deciding to check up on her the following morning. It could very well be the last time she ever saw the woman.

On her way back to her own room, however, she saw a figure lingering in the distance. He was half-set in shadows, but using her keen eyesight, she was able to spot him. As she drew nearer, however, she realized that she had no idea who he was.

"Hello," she greeted, stepping up behind him.

He turned and gazed at her, first with surprise and then, after he inclined his head, with respect. "My lady," he said, making to move past her.

"I don't know you," she said, her voice sharp. He turned to regard her again.

"I thought you one of the healers in these Houses," he said, indicating Buffy's long white robes.

"I'm a patient," she replied. "I was being treated here."

His eyes quickly inspected her up and down. "You do not look as though you need treatment," he said at last.

"Which is why I said I was being treated," she said dryly. "But I figured I should get to know everyone here and I don't know you."

He looked amused as he scanned her.

"My name is Buffy," she said, tapping her chest.

"That is not a name of this world," he said, his eyes at last meeting hers.

"You're telling me," she scoffed.

"Where are you from?" he asked, his eyes more intense now.

"I came with Rohan," she said quietly. "That's where I'm from." In a way, that was the closest thing to the truth. She wasn't about to tell some poor unsuspecting man that she'd landed in the middle of an Elvish paradise.

"You fought in this battle?" the man asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy said, grimacing. "And now I get to go and die in the next one."

He was somewhat stricken with her tone of voice. "My name is Faramir," he finally offered, stepping into the light. She blinked up at him before nodding.

"I have heard your name before," she said quietly. Her eyes quickly looked down. "It's good to see you back on your feet again. I hope you get well soon."

Offering him a hasty smile, she said a polite farewell before making an exit.

He was the first man she had met from Gondor, she realized as she sat back on her cot, drawing her knees to her chest. She was lost in thought when she heard a gentle knock on her doorway. She looked up to see Aragorn standing there.

"Hey," she said, quickly relaxing her defensive stance as he stepped inside the doorway.

"I just wanted you to know that we will leave at first light," he said, glancing around the tiny room.

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "I'll be ready."

He caught the nonchalant look on her face and frowned. "Is there something on your mind?"

She slowly shook her head. "Nope… I'm just doing what I'm supposed to be doing, right?" she asked. She watched as his head bobbed up and down before sighing. "Éomer said something about going headlong into a suicide mission. It sounds like fun."

"We will only do this to give Frodo a chance," Aragorn replied solemnly. "We do this not for ourselves."

"In other words, it's the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the all," Buffy said in a tired voice. "I got it."

"I would understand if—"

But she cut him off by holding out one of her hands. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Aragorn," she said, seeing the put out look on his face. "I know what's at stake. You may not know where I've come from or where I've been, but I can tell you that I've been here and done this before." She paused. "I figured it was only a matter of time before one of you _men _decided on a suicide mission to get your kicks."

Aragorn attempted to smile at her vague attempt at humor, but she didn't.

"I know that you have only been here a short time," he said seriously, taking the stool near the doorway. "Either we will achieve victory, which is unlikely as all, or else we will all perish to give one Hobbit his final chance of succeeding a mission that started nearly a year ago."

"As I've said, I know," she said, glancing at him. "It's not like I don't appreciate your need to justify your decision, but… I can't justify how much I really don't care. I know that I'm here to fight in your wars. That's great and all, but I know that I exist here only to fight in your wars. You're supposed to be a King who's set to achieve this huge victory. I can't even begin to think past tomorrow or the day after that." She knew she was going too far, but she no longer cared about the consequences. She wasn't going to live past the final battle to find out. All she had left was this night and every single night which drew her closer to her own death. "I will go with the Rohirrim tomorrow," she said at last. "That's where I was sent first. It is how I want to go out."

Aragorn left shortly thereafter. Buffy remained on her cot even well into the night, her eyes lost in thought. Tomorrow she was leaving the security of this tall city and was about to venture off into the unknown, going against a far larger army. Knowing what was to come, she finally felt her body succumb to sleep.

She didn't know, however, that another figure arrived shortly after to watch over her as she slept. But, for some reason, despite her best efforts, she no longer felt alone.

x-x-x

In the next part, a looming battle leads to one couple's happiness, while another stands on the brink of disaster.

Éowyn and Faramir are love. I have forever enjoyed this pairing and getting to write a chapter that focuses nearly solely on them is completely awesome. I am so glad I wrote it in! I know it may seem like filler, alas… but other Éowyn/Faramir fans may appreciate it. Their time together in the film was eye-roll worthy. It also leads to a few more relationship developments as Buffy _finally _learns about Arwen.


	20. Crossroads

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings. The Buffy pairing by now should be obvious. If it is not, then in about another chapter it will be _painfully _obvious.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: I know that I have heard that this is frowned upon. However, it just seems like the right thing to do. Besides, my headers are usually less than a page, and these chapters are between ten and twelve pages apiece easily. My justification has been noted. Now, let us get to the good parts.

_Mama T – Thank you._

_Sukera__ – I have no intentions of forgetting this story. This chapter marks the 2/3 point and for this, a big sigh of relief. I sort of forgot the explanation that Ava has been rather ill as of late, but when it comes down to it, caring for a sick toddler is a little more important than satisfying my own selfish writing whims. I had no idea how to end that chapter and the piece that was originally in there was cut out. It was far too emotional for my tastes._

_Lorency__ – It was, for the most part, a fun chapter to write. It had its' moments, that is for certain. I tried to get that point across. As for that final moment that you suggested, well… it will not get quite that far. She'll "throw him a bone", but it won't be anything like that. I will wait until the final outcome of the battle before I say more._

_Almadynis__ – Buffy is pulling a Season 6 all over again. She is attempting to push those who care about her away, but is finding it difficult. Desolate yes, desperate, not really. She is determined to see this through to the end, and all personal feelings aside, she feels the end is coming. She is content to just let it go. Well, I guess it wouldn't be spoiling anything to say that there are others not quite willing to let her go so willingly._

_Shabapo__ – That was my attempt at Éowyn playing the dubious woman. She knows what her brother feels and was trying to see what Buffy felt. When she realized that Buffy didn't deny not feeling anything towards him, well… she got her answer. Éomer is only tongue-tied because after the last debate (which I neglected to really write out, because it is just a group of men talking about a suicide mission) he goes to tell her what they decided. He knows that asking her to fight would be asking her to die for him, and even though he knows she's a fighter, he also knows how hard it is to ask someone he respects to fight for him like that. Learning about Arwen will only add to her thoughts that not all men like Aragorn, whom she finds herself somewhat akin to (fighting for destiny, mostly), go without love. To know that his heart was bought a long time ago and he rides to war with her standard and her soul in his heart will sort of prove to Buffy that he is a good man to die for. Not only that, but it is okay to love someone while fighting for something as big as the lives of all mankind. I know that there are better explanations than that, but that just about covers it. Lastly, Faramir and Éowyn were so grossly undisclosed it broke my heart. Therefore, I gave them my own reason for a good majority of a chapter!_

_CharmingStar__ – Thank you! And I do intend to post on a more regular schedule as I used to. Perhaps once a week, but never once a month again. I had no idea so much time had passed!_

_Rcaqua__ – Yeah, you're right. I am not about to deny it. This chapter pretty much seals it. Her reaction to Arwen is simple curiosity. She is about to realize she doesn't know everything._

_BuffyandDracoLover__ – As do I. Unfortunately, to coincide with the timeline, I had to divide the chapter into three separate entities, so that a little bit of Éowyn/Faramir shows up in each of the next three. As for what happens between the other two, well… nothing, yet. Eventually, there will be a payoff, just not yet. Legolas appreciates her for what she is, but they are akin to the fact that from the moment they are conceived (he as an Elf-lord and she as a Slayer), they have the same calling towards death. They are friends and nothing more._

_Vampy__, the __Chosen__ One – considering this is a remake of the original, well, thank you. Someday I will write something without such an unoriginal plot line._

Chapter Summary: Those left behind face the ramifications of what may yet come to pass. Meanwhile, an army begins its long march over the plains of Ithilien.

Chapter Warning: Yep. This is my Faramir/Éowyn chapter. Well, partially, anyways. I had to cut down a bit on the three-part battle and survival sequence, so I ended up cutting it into this chapter. This is probably why it is so long. So, this does take a bit of description from the books during the march through Ithilien. Otherwise, the rather desolate romantic pairing that I have favored since I was seven is currently under the guise of my own imagination. There were moments taken from the book though, and the film scene was too precious to skip over.

x-x-x

**Chapter 20**

**Crossroads**

_By Alyson Kay_

x-x-x

Éowyn was resting inside her room when she heard the gentle sound of a knock against her doorway. She looked up to see the other woman of Rohan standing there, once dressed in the same white gown Éowyn herself had bidden to wear whilst in the keeping of the Houses of Healing. This morning, however, she was wearing the same tunic and trousers she had worn to battle and was clad with the same boots as before. Her armor wasn't present and neither was her vast array of weaponry.

"Good morning," Buffy said, cheerfully stepping inside after glancing to make certain there were no others present.

"Are you not leaving today?" Éowyn asked by means of a response. Buffy glanced at her a moment before shrugging.

"Yeah, we're leaving in about an hour," Buffy said quickly. "I just wanted to…" She gestured at Éowyn's bed and the rest of the room. "Well, you know…"

"You should hasten," Éowyn said, turning away so that Buffy would not be able to see her face. "They will not wait for you. They will expect you to be there with the others."

"I will be," Buffy said in her assuring voice. "I just wanted to be sure you're all right."

"My body heals," Éowyn said with a short, sharp laugh. "My arm is at ease but even that is a poor excuse as to why I cannot lift a sword to defend those I love."

"Oh, right," Buffy said, in an attempt to keep the sarcasm from her tone, "you just want to go and get yourself killed in the most painful way possible." Éowyn didn't reply, but Buffy saw the dangerous glint in the other woman's eyes. "Look… I know you're angry about being left behind…"

"What great woman would not want to seek valor in a land where valor amongst women is foreign?" Éowyn asked.

"Because some women don't have to fight to live," Buffy replied, leaning against the wall. "You may be a shieldmaiden, Éowyn, but there is enough time for you to die in battle in the future. I'm just doing what I was chosen to do."

"Our people would rather not see you die," Éowyn said, her tone turning forceful. "Our King would not see you fall!"

"He was the one that asked me to go," Buffy said coolly, straightening her posture. "No matter how he feels about me or I for him, this decision was based solely on the fact that he knows my duty. If Frodo does whatever the hell he was supposed to do, I won't be needed around here anymore. I want to make sure that happens."

Éowyn gazed at her silently for a moment before resting against the wall. "I fear that you may not return," she said softly, her voice echoing her deepest, innermost fears. "I fear that all will be lost and Éomer will lie dormant in the halls of Minas Tirith with Théoden, the fallen King. I fear that I alone will lead my people into darkness and into despair. You ask me if I am well, but I am not. My body may be healing, but my mind is ill at ease."

Buffy didn't have the heart to disagree with her. After spending time speaking with both Aragorn and Gandalf, she knew that this was the closest thing to a suicide mission she would ever face. They could all very well die in the ambush to come. She wasn't about to tell Éowyn about her dream nor was she about to tell Éowyn she knew she wasn't coming back. There would be time enough for that later.

"I want you to promise me something," Buffy said softly. Éowyn blinked up at her and nodded slowly. "No matter what happens out there, I want you to know that I…" For a moment, her voice failed her. "I only want what's best for you. Fighting in a war isn't the only way to be brave. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. No one deserves unhappiness. I want you to promise me you'll be happy, no matter what happens. I want you to live, for…" She paused again before mustering a small smile.

"What about you?" Éowyn asked quietly. "Do you not deserve happiness?"

"I'm at peace," Buffy admitted. "I feel like I have nothing left to lose, and nothing left to win. This mission will decide the fate of the rest of our lives."

"If I were never to see you again," Éowyn said, swallowing hard, "perhaps you will go to the halls of our Fathers and rest as one of us."

The thought of spending eternity with a bunch of dead Kings didn't really appeal to her, but it opened a thought, a doorway to another world she had expected to see just a short month before, when she'd died again. For a moment, the two women stared at one another before Buffy hastily smiled. "I guess I should probably go." Seeing the sad, pensive look on Éowyn's face, she felt her smile dissolve. "He's going to come back, Éowyn. He's a good fighter. He knows what he's doing."

Éowyn didn't reply, but watched as Buffy left. As soon as she heard her footsteps dissipate, she turned and relaxed against her cushions again. For a moment, she felt the strangest sensation, as though she should be calling out to the young woman who had just so abruptly left. She closed her eyes and wished for the same peace the other woman felt. To be so young and to have lived such a difficult life was something Éowyn had been accustomed to. She never would have imagined that someone else that was her age would share such a fate.

x-x-x

The sun was only clearing the mountains when the full strength of the army of the West had been gathered. Buffy drew Sador out and stood her with the rest of the Rohirrim. Many greeted her warmly as she stationed herself there. Her eyes scanned the thousands that had been gathered at the Pelennor and she finally sought out Gandalf and Aragorn, who were speaking together. Éomer and Prince Imrahil trailed after, along with Legolas, Gimli and the two identical sons of Elrond. The remnants of the Rangers were already stationed on their steeds and were awaiting their lord's command.

Buffy quickly drew herself atop Sador and positioned her heavy armor, lifting her helmet and attaching it to the saddle. Most of her weapons had been carefully tucked along the leather, well within her reach should the need arise. The other men quickly followed her lead as they awaited Éomer's return. After a bit of yelling between companies, they were finally underway, going row by row past the burnt-out shells that remained of the walls and houses along the Pelennor Fields. Buffy found herself beckoned forward and joined Gandalf. Behind him rode a Hobbit, she saw. Pippin, it must be, because Merry was no where in sight.

"Buffy," Gandalf said by way of greeting. She positioned Sador beside him as they marched quickly towards the remnants of Osgiliath in the distance. "It will take us days to reach Morannon, where we will make our final stand."

"Got it," she said, attempting to listen to him as well as direct Sador in the rather neat lines of horses and men. There were so few horses that most of them rode onwards before the rather large group of marching men about a mile behind them. "Is there anything I should know about it?"

Apparently, that was a stupid question to ask. By the time they rode into Osgiliath and rode out of the way, allowing the others to complete the necessary repairs to continue their journey, Gandalf had told her much of the Dagorlad battle plain from the Battle of the Last Alliance. As she had yet to meet Elrond, she was openly curious about him now. It was only then that she heard a murmur about an Arwen, but she knew better than to ask Gandalf about her. She would be listening to him drone for the next three hours about some Elvish maiden who succumbed to some great drama that sent her to God knew where.

She did, however, dismount and move to speak with Aragorn, who was one of the many men repairing the planks on the large bridge that crossed over the river. The other men were quickly drawing the boats nearer to shore, or trying to repair the enormous gashes in the side to ensure that they wouldn't drown half of their forces before they even left Gondor. As usual, he seemed pleased to see her and even more pleased when she dropped down beside him, lifted a hammer and began smacking cheerfully away at the loose boards, attempting to push them back into place.

At first, they didn't talk, but after an hour, the foot soldiers began to march into Osgiliath and her curiosity was getting the best of her. As they trooped back across the bridge to collect their horses, she finally managed to ask him, "So, who's Arwen?"

He froze and turned around to face her with such speed, she gasped. "What do you know of her?" he asked in such an intense voice it took her breath away.

"Gandalf was telling me about Elrond," she said defensively. "He only brought her up once, but I didn't want to ask him about her. I knew he'd probably never shut up."

Aragorn's face seemed to relax slightly.

"So," she prompted gently. "I know you know her. You just gave yourself away."

"She is someone I have known for many years," he began. As they continued to walk, she listened to a story not unlike her own romance with Angel. It was a love story between a mortal and an immortal, one that would have to give up one aspect in order to be with the other. She didn't say anything, but listened, even as they retrieved their horses and watched as the others began crossing the bridge, the boats sailing smoothly beneath it on the Anduin. "She is now traveling to the West with all that remains of her kin," he concluded, watching her face carefully for a reaction. "As a mortal man, I will not see her again."

"It sounds to me as though you still love her," Buffy said seriously. She wasn't about to mock this now. He was a very generous and sincere man, one of the few she found to be wholly trustworthy in this godforsaken land.

"A love like the one I share with Arwen is not one that succumbs to death or to life," Aragorn replied in his heavy tone.

"Do you regret not asking her to stay?" she asked.

"Nay," he replied, although it seemed to her that he could be deceiving her. "I will not hold back her greatest gift on the mere chance that all we have wished for will be right in this world. I will not ask her to die for me."

But the Rohirrim had asked her to die for them, Buffy thought. As Aragorn rode onwards, she grew lost in thought. The boats arrived in the middle of the afternoon and soon all of the horses and men had crossed Anduin and drove into Ithilien.

Éomer has asked her to fight for him, knowing she was a great warrior. But if he had feelings for her as Éowyn had said, then perhaps it would stand to reason that he regretted asking her to fight for him. She was going to have to ask him about this. It was time to confront this now, before she died and before he possibly did, as well.

It gave her a strange sense of comfort to know that Aragorn was going through what she once had done. Angel would never risk his soul or his immortality to be with her. The same sounded true for this Arwen Evenstar. Buffy hoped to meet her one day, just because it would be nice to look upon one who had suffered as she had. In that afternoon, Buffy had found herself a kindred spirit in Aragorn. Despite the fact she wanted to sever ties to the people of this Middle-earth, it was proving to be more difficult that she'd first anticipated.

x-x-x

It had been hours since the men had gone off to war, Éowyn thought to herself, rising from her bed and stepping into the corridors. She looked in the doorway of the Hobbit Merry's room and found him resting. Deciding that she couldn't really remain while the others had gone off to battle and to certain doom, she made her way to the Warden, passing the women who considered Éowyn to be under their care. She shrugged off their protests, waving her hand impatiently as she passed them. She had no use of women who couldn't tell her anything, by their will or not, but she wished to hear of tidings of the men who had just left, and the woman who was dear to her.

The Warden looked surprised to see Éowyn wandering about and attempted to halt her, for it seemed to him she was sneaking out of the Houses. "My Lady," he said, ducking under the archway. Éowyn paused, bringing a hand to her throat, startled. "Where are you going?"

"You cannot ask me to remain here," she said in a cool tone, gesturing to her arm, resting in a sling of linen.

"I was bidden for you to remain here," said the Warden in an uncomfortable voice. "You are not yet healed, Lady. I cannot allow you passage to leave."

"I _am _healed," she replied. "My arm is at rest, but as long as I remain in these Houses, I will not truly heal. You must allow me to leave. I seek tidings of war. The women can tell me nothing."

"I know of no new tidings," the Warden said quietly, "save that the lords have united under the ranger of the North and that he will lead them to the Black Gates. They departed the fields the day before yesterday."

"I know this," Éowyn said, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes. Was everyone in Gondor slow to think and even slower to act? This man was infuriating! "Who commands this city? Did he ride off to war as well?"

"Nay, my Lady," the man said, bowing his head. "I honestly know not who commands the city. There is a marshal of the Riders of Rohan, as there is a commander for the forces of Gondor. But the Lord Faramir is by his right the Steward of Gondor. He is within these Houses. He was sorely wounded, as you have been, and he is on his way to recovering, but—"

"I wish to see him," Éowyn said, cutting through the man's speech. He gazed at her a moment, lost in thought. For it seemed to him that she stood tall and proud, with bright eyes set in her brilliantly pale face, yet there was a darkness residing. He knew not to speak of dissuading her, for her had heard the women of Rohan were rather stubborn, as this one appeared to be.

"Very well," he said, rising. "Come with me."

The Warden led her through the corridors until they at last came to the gardens. As she took the steps, she saw a man standing in the same white cloak in the dim sunlight, his eyes closed against the warmth. A cold chill seemed to sweep through the gardens, which appeared as dead and sullen as the rest of the city. He turned at the sound of footsteps and his eyes at first glanced upon the Warden, who begged his apology and explained Éowyn's presence before he glanced upon her. For a moment, she found herself gazing into the warmest eyes, the color of the deepest sea, before he blinked and turned to the Warden, nodding his agreement.

"You are troubled, my Lady?" he asked as she stepped towards him. He saw by her posture that she was not one to back down so swiftly. He knew that Warden was quite uncomfortable around women who possessed great power and this certainly was one he was not equipped to handle. Aside from her pale beauty, she seemed stricken, frozen in a shadow, as though not willing to return from the darkness and step into the light of day that awaited them all.

"I am not well," she announced clearly. He blinked and regarded her more carefully. Perhaps this, too, was out of his reach. "Do not misunderstand him, my Lord. It is not the lack of care which troubles me. No, it is boredom and remaining idle when those I consider most dear ride off to battle. I looked for death in my battle, but yet I remain here while the battle is fought elsewhere."

Faramir quickly waved off the Warden, and the man bowed and disappeared. "What would you have me do?" he asked, attempting to keep the amusement from his tone. "I, too, am a prisoner in these Houses. I could no more go off to fight in some battle than you are able."

Éowyn's face was covered in a slight flush as she met his gaze, expecting it to be stern but finding something else behind it. His eyes were gentle, almost compassionate, looking upon her with pity, not with irritation and annoyance. Her own gaze clouded and she felt her eyes graze towards the beyond. A cold breeze plummeted from the hills, lifting her hair from her shoulders as she stared outwards. Even as the sunlight moved across her face, it did little to relieve her dark spirits.

"I will do as you ask as long as it is within my power," Faramir said, considering her for a moment before following her gaze.

"I would say to you that you bid the Warden to release me," Éowyn said in her firmest tone. Even as she doubted herself in the eyes of this man, who continued to gaze at her as though he had never seen anything like her, she felt slightly foolish. Perhaps she was pushing him too hard. "I no longer wish to remain within these Houses."

"No," he said, this time unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "You wish to seek a glorious death in a battle."

"I wish to ride with my brother, the King Éomer, and all of those who loyally follow him, as they followed my uncle, the fallen King Théoden," she retorted sharply. "I wish to do my part in this world and I will not have you discourage me so."

Of all the women in Rohan he was bound to be stuck with, it had to be the stubborn one. At least the other one, albeit shorter, had been a bit more conscientious. "I myself am bid to remain by the Warden of these Houses," he said, attempting to soothe her riled temper. "I would see to my duties within the City should he release me, but I must remain to heal. You would do well to follow the counsel."

He met her icy gaze for a moment before she relented. "I seek only to follow the counsel which sees me to my duties," she said at last. "Remaining idle and trapped within such a fine institution would seem a waste of my time as well as a waste of yours."

"It is far too late, Lady, to follow the Captains even if you did have the strength," Faramir said, going for the realistic approach. "We may yet face death should their journey fall. All we can do is wait patiently and endure these hours."

It seemed to him that her proud demeanor seemed to soften, and her ice-filled eyes turned to liquid as a single tear floated as a raindrop down her pale cheek. It was there but a second before her hand brushed it aside. "I will remain, as the healers have said I should remain seven days," she said quietly, so quietly that it seemed she spoke to herself. Tipping her face to the sunlight, which seemed to disappear behind the cold, grey clouds, she sighed. "My window does not face eastward. I have not light nor warmth from the sun."

"That can be amended," he said, lightly touching her arm. She did not hasten to pull away, but then again, she did not appear to have the strength to. She looked as though her hopes and dreams had come crashing down like shattering stone, yet her face still held a touch of dignity and pride. "I will command it from the Warden. If you remain here and rest, you can dwell in the gardens and look to the east. There all of our hope remains and with it we must endure whatever end is to come. If you will come into the gardens, you will see me standing and facing to the east." She nodded, not trusting herself to glance back at him. But she felt his comforting hand on her shoulder, grazing her skin. "It would ease my care if you would walk with me, or speak."

She turned to face him at last. Her eyes had softened to resemble new jewels set in a face of stone, and yet the lines had faltered and her youth was shining brightly behind her intense gaze. "How can I hope to ease your care?" she asked quietly. "By blood, I am a shield-maiden of Rohan. My hands are not gentle. And to speak with you; I do not care for the speech of the living. I wish only to see those I care for again."

"To hear your voice and to know our fates remain tied would only bring me to health," he explained gently. "Your hands need not be gentle, but your words could carry less hurts."

She turned to throw him a distinctively sarcastic look. "I will have you know, Faramir, Steward of the City, that I was in the counsel of one who would not hesitate to behead those who would speak to them in this manner. And you should know that I will not take such hesitation either. I have learnt much from her." With a last look, the distinct pride returning to her eyes, she did him a courtesy before returning to her room.

He found himself shaking his head in wonder as he stared after her. For some reason, even her infuriating manner had touched him. He knew had to learn more about her, but there were few that remained that could speak of her. He knew of one, however, and after questioning the Warden made his way towards the suite of Meriadoc, the young Hobbit who had ridden with Éowyn into battle. Perhaps he would hold the key to unlocking the frozen shadow that remained within the Lady Éowyn.

x-x-x

The road to the Black Gate was slow, due to the extreme paranoia of Aragorn and the rest of the men at discovering that some large army was lying in wait to ambush them. Buffy had laughed off most of this as folly for the first few times, until their own encampment had come under attack. It hadn't been a ten-thousand-numbered-army has Gimli had sworn it would be, but it was large enough to take both time and energy to disperse. After the effort, their enemy had been driven back into the mountains.

Since then, Buffy had felt a cold weight settle onto her shoulders. During their long rides, she was getting to know the men a bit better. Even though she longed to ride in front of the column with Gandalf, who could take away the lure of boredom with long-winded speeches covering every topic under rainbow, she had promised herself that she would remain as far away from the Captains as humanly possible.

Even as the light began to fall on the third day, Buffy felt something else that nearly stole her breath away. She glanced at Legolas who, with his keen Elven eyes, could see far into the sky. "What are they?" she asked him.

"Nazgûl," he said, lowering his hand and gazing at her as she dismounted, carefully making her way towards him. "They have been following us for some time now."

"I see," Buffy said, and she could truly see the hideous creatures beating their pointed wings far beyond their heads, out of sight to all but two. They were circling the small encampments, the companies of men dispersed in a large circular pattern so that if one group were to fall under attack, assistance would not be far off. It was obvious that everyone was aware of their presence, for when she spoke to Legolas next, he said not a word to her but to acknowledge her question with a nod before disappearing. She watched him go before she felt eyes on her neck and turned to find the gaze of the young King of Rohan on her. She felt slightly ashamed, as she had yet to really speak to him. But their time was drawing to a close, she thought. But she was in no temperament to even make words with him, much less make peace. He didn't press the issue, either, but instead turned his gaze to his captains. She knew she would better serve as counsel and would have come forward had Gandalf not chosen that precise moment to rescue her from a situation she was still not ready for.

They left shortly after dark, once all had been sufficiently fed and watered. They moved as a large group and Buffy once again rode next to Gandalf near the front, her keen eyes seeing into the dark as the horsemen followed behind her and the other men on foot were a great distance away, but closing quickly. Already they had passed the Morgul Vale and the pass to the dead city, which Gandalf had ordered the bridges and lands to be torched, as they were poisoned by the darkness of Sauron. Even as they continued to draw nearer to this evil, she felt it. It was sinking deep within her skin. She was breathing the foul essence of the darkness and knew it was about to choke on those that the army brought forward. There was a King of men, along with two princely lords besides. Adding to that a few Elves, a Dwarf and a Halfling, those were reasons enough to take this threat seriously. She knew she had no real place there aside from doing what she had been born to do, and she was willing to see it to the end. She wanted the darkness to choke on her and to spit her back into the Earth where she had been brought from.

She knew now that there was no turning back.

x-x-x

Faramir departed from his room the fourth morning and found his gaze settling on a figure clothes in white, leaning against the outer wall in the gardens. She turned slightly when she heard footsteps.

"I have been waiting for you," she said quietly. "I feared you would not come."

"Did you truly fear this, Éowyn?" he asked in a teasing voice. She turned to regard him and drew nearer and he offered her his arm. They took to walking through the gardens.

"I fear for what is to come," she said, sending a scathing glance to the dark clouds bubbling over Mordor in the distance. "I fear for the lives that will be lost. Most of all, I fear that I would alone endure the silence of these thoughts."

Faramir glanced at her as they paused to reside at a stone bench, set under a sprawling tree, one that had no leaves or blossoms, but remained withered and twisted. "I will say you should not have to face these fears alone," he said, patting her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I told you this yesterday and I believe I even told you the day before…"

"Do not mock me," she said, her lips twisting into an ironic smile as she fought to hold in a chortle.

"I would dare not mock such a Lady," Faramir said, as though the very thought were forbidden to him. He had but to meet her eyes once before he relented, shrugging under the heat of her writhing stare. "No, I say that I would not and I mean it."

"Of course," she said, but she didn't believe him. He didn't really believe himself, either.

What little he had discovered from the Halfling was that this woman was solely devoted to the defense and protection of Rohan. Her uncle, the King, had died in the attack on Minas Tirith and her elder brother was now the King of Rohan. She was close in age to the other woman that rode with them, one that Merry fondly called Merilin. She had ridden to battle in the hopes of a swift death in a blaze of glory that had yet to awaken the will to live within her. As he stared at her pale face today, he saw that their past day of conversations had done little to sway her mind. She was still set in defending this world as was the other woman, she had said wryly.

They sat in the warmth of the sun for awhile, not speaking but staring out at the dead garden and watched as their hopes grew closer to extinction. He felt her hand on his and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze to let her know that she was not alone in worrying for such things to come to pass. If Sauron were to recover the one Ring, their world would fall in a matter of hours. There was no strength left in the Elven kingdoms of old, he had sadly said yesterday. There had once been a great strength with the High Kings of old but their light had passed from the world and even now, there seemed to be warmth lacking in the bright light shining down upon them.

Finally, Éowyn spoke up, as though to herself rather than to him. "I wonder if she will ever tell him before she dies," she said under her breath.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, turning to look at her. She gazed at him and lifted a shoulder as she turned away.

"Buffy," she replied, as though expecting that he should have known this. "I know from the way she spoke that she believes she will not return."

"Do you not have faith in her skills?" he asked her.

"I have much faith," Éowyn replied sadly. "She speaks of this as her destiny, as something she was solely born to be, as I was. She does not see that many would miss her should she pass." She paused a moment. "My brother loves her. He will not readily admit this, but I see in his eyes and in his heart that she is one he loves. I know that she cares for him and I only hope he knows the truth before she…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. The bitter rejection from Aragorn seemed like so long ago, before riding off into war without a care for survival. Buffy had been right. The hardest thing in this world was to live in it. To live would be admitting to herself that she loved the thought of becoming someone she knew she was destined to be.

If Faramir knew her thought, he chose wisely not to comment. He did, however, find the subject of a female warrior and a King of some interest. "Do you really feel that she cares for him as he cares for her?"

"She did not deny it," Éowyn said with a triumphant smile. "She may deny much, but she did not deny what she felt towards him. I hope that she will not cower in the face of death and speak plainly."

For a moment, her hand fell lax as he released his hold. And then, "Would you allow me to speak plainly?"

"I would."

"I will not act as a coward as you have called those close to your heart," he said, frowning as he gazed into the distant light, which seemed to be waning in comparison to the dark clouds nearing the horizon. "I have known the love of no woman save my mother, and her spirit died within hours of my coming into this world. You have given me a gift and it heals me, as you see."

"I still have no gentle hand," she said, turning to gaze at her flesh, which was marred with bruising left over from the battle. Her broken arm was still bound in its sling, yet she refused to show one ounce of discomfort, believing the women of Rohan to have backbones of steel and nerves of iron. It was only in this moment that she found herself opening to this man as he gazed upon her. "I am glad that you are healing, lord," she said at last.

He watched as she rose and took a few steps forward.

"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it," she said, echoing Buffy's words. "They are far true for those of us who wish not to believe in them. I have only known one life and had one dream, to be as the Queens of old, to slay and fight for my country."

"To say that would deem you a darkness impenetrable," Faramir said, rising to stand next to her. It seemed to him that she grew with sadness, but no longer did he look upon her with pity. He was far beyond the greatest of pities. He now looked upon her with respect as one of such esteem could garner from the lords of old. Her strength was in her words and in her actions. Her sorrow did not move him as it once had. But, in that moment, he saw the hope for life in her eyes as she gazed out over the garden wall.

"There is no warmth left in the sun," she said calmly. "This day has gone cold as the world soon will follow with it."

He gently reached down and took her hand. "The sun may have gone today, but will return tomorrow with strength renewed," he said, gently pressing his opposite hand to her icy cheek. "I do not believe such darkness will endure."

As he swept away, she stared after him, long after his shadow had departed.

x-x-x

It had come to the point of no return. Aragorn had already sent the fearful backwards to reclaim some island she knew she couldn't pronounce. They had already rested a few hours as they rode through the night, counting on their four best pairs of eyes to guide them through the darkness. They had at last reached Morannon but she had yet to see it aside from a few spike-covered towers and a long wall between them. She could still hear the beating of wings far above her head through her advanced sense of hearing, but she wasn't about to let the others know. They were dour and dark-tempered as it was.

Aragorn quickly called the horsemen to halt until the others had a chance to catch up. Buffy found herself unknowingly with the company of the Rohirrim, but didn't move until she heard Éomer call her name. She turned to see him standing near her horse. Blinking down at him through the darkness, she quickly made her report. "There's still no one within a ten-mile radius," she said, smothering a yawn. "Those evil things are still overhead. No, I don't see any light from the other side and I haven't heard anything aside from horses snorting and walking for hours. And—"

Her voice was cut off by the sudden presence of his hand on hers. "Oh," she said softly.

"I wish to speak with you ere I lose this final opportunity," he said. She quickly dismounted Sador and her faithful horse remained behind with the others. Despite the high tension that seemed to be running amok through the encampment, she still found her heart racing nearly a thousand miles a minute as he pulled her aside. "I have need of counsel."

"Whatever you need, it can wait," she said hurriedly. She didn't want to get into _this _conversation again. "We're about to go to war."

"One that either if not us both can be easily lost," he said deeply.

"You can't die," she said simply. "I told Éowyn you'd be coming back to her."

"Did you not speak of yourself as well?" he asked her.

"I didn't."

"You know now that you will never return," he said, the sound of dawning realization evident in his tone of voice. "You believe this truly will end your journey."

"It will," she admitted. She felt his eyes on her in the dark, and she knew she was going beyond what she had wanted. "Look," she said quickly. "I know that it's coming. I can't stop it. I can't resist it."

"I could order you to return with the others," he said, his tone threatening.

She shook her head sadly. "No, you can't. Gandalf would just simply have to overrule you and I'd still be fighting at your side."

"I only wish you would consider to always fight at my side," he said as though it were an afterthought.

"If I could," she said softly, "I would. I'd follow you anywhere. You are worth it, you know."

"What worth I must possess if the one that I care for seeks her own death in a battle," Éomer said, his tone darkening.

"I don't seek it," Buffy snapped. "I know it's coming. I saw it, okay? In my dreams, I saw myself die. It wasn't pretty and it hurt… it really hurt. But I knew that it would comfort me because I was dying for someone I—" She cut herself off just in time. Shaking her head, she brushed her hair from her eyes before sighing. "I wish things could be different. I wish I could be the person you want me to be, but I'm not. I'm Buffy. I'm not this Merilin Gandalf created just to have some pawn to move around some metaphorical chess board. I can only be who I am."

"Do you think I would care if you were anything but who you are?" he asked. It seemed to him that he was still looking at her, but the disappointment and hurt were clear in his crystalline gaze.

"You've only known me for what, three weeks? How can you care about me that much?" she challenged.

"How could I not?" he asked, his tone dropping. "I have seen you fight as though you were one of us. You are one of us. You have strength and speed and skill that many would give their lives for to fight behind. These men would follow you until death because they know you protect them." He paused as he watched her shake her head. Even with the distance lights of the approaching army, he could see the dark look on the faces about him. "I know that you care for this world. I do not know how I came to this, but I know that if you were given the choice, this would not be your journey's end."

"You're probably right," she said after a pregnant pause. "But I can't care. I have to save the world. We all have something to save here. You have your kingdom. I have my destiny. For now, they mesh. And they'll mesh until I'm dead and you're back at Edoras."

"I only wish for you to—"

"Don't you understand?" she cried softly. "I can't love you."

There was a long silence between them. Even the beating of wings high above their heads seemed to abate as she felt as though, for a time, the world stood still.

"Then I have my answer," he said curtly, turning on his heel.

"Don't," she said, her voice a half-plead. He turned to regard her. "Don't hate me because I can't."

"I will never hate you," he said, moving closer and pressing his hand to her face. She turned her bright eyes to him and even in the darkness, he saw the outline of her face. If only he could see her eyes, which had turned deep and sad from admitting the one thing she had never wanted to say, ever. "We both may die tomorrow and whatever happens, I wanted you to know what I felt before the morning came. I do not pretend to know things of such matters, but I know enough to know that I will never receive anything from you that you have not already given me."

Buffy reached up and covered his hand with her own and for a moment, he swallowed his hurtful words. "Just because I can't love you doesn't mean I don't care," she said softly. "I don't love easily. I've been hurt so badly before… because those I care about die. I don't want that to happen to you."

He knew from the brutal honesty of her tone that she spoke the truth. He only wished that he could have what he truly wanted and knowing that she felt something did nothing to appease his growing fears. She had already marked herself for death. If it were to be the death of them all, he would see to it and fight until the bitter end had come. And yet he remembered, just days before on the Pelennor Fields, the young woman standing next to him, telling him that they should never give up, no matter how badly they were outnumbered. Her sharp words spoke to him even now.

"I have ridden in defense of fields and towns for far too long," he said. "I know not how to rule a Kingdom or pass judgment on those. I wish to leave that to the King, but I find myself with such title. I desire nothing of the lordship given to me by blood, but I will take it nonetheless. And I no longer wish to be alone."

"You're going to be a great King," she replied fervently. "It's your destiny. And we all live out our destinies, right? Sometimes fighting alone prepares us for what we face ahead." In her mind, she saw 'ahead' as the Heaven awaiting her on the other side of the painful death she had dreamt of.

He withdrew his hand, but her fingers gently closed around it. For a moment, he felt warmth spread from her touch and it seemed to spurn him on with her inner strength, which had been her greatest fire. Her death would be a tragic loss for Rohan, he knew. She had strength enough to make Rohan strong and to heal it of its hurts and pains of the past. He had seen her fighting spirit and he had too seen her heart. And he knew from that moment on, he would not let her go.

"Do not die because you know you must," he finally managed to say even as she turned to walk away; the others had arrived. "If you had wanted certain death, you would have died in Gondor."

In response, he only received a faint smile, visible to him through the darkness. It seemed to him that an unspoken promise had been passed between them. They stood on the brink of disaster, but they were no longer alone.

x-x-x

The next part is a battle chapter and, alas, one of the hardest I had yet to write. I did include a bit of lightness amidst the darkness, with another round of my favorite relationship. I am rather pleased that this story is nearly complete. After over a year of toiling with plotlines and developments, well… there really aren't many significant contributions to the plot albeit what happens in the following chapter. It is a rather dark chapter, as well, just to forewarn you.

I am leaving for a few days… my other story will be updated upon my return.


	21. Last Stand

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are book pairings. The Buffy pairing by now should be _painfully _obvious. If it is not, then, there really is not much of a point to be asking about it, is there?

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Author's notes tend to be misjudged, I think. My headers are still relatively small so I will keep up this newfound tradition. And… reviews? Wow… Anyways, Trina and I both appreciate your comments. We have spent a lot of time on this story, and I think it is beginning to show. While there is a rather large chunk of the story still to tell, I only hope that you enjoy what is to come.

_Mama T – Many, many thanks._

_Goldenshadows__ – oddly enough, so am I._

_BuffyandDracoLover__ – where is the fun in all of that? I really do not write for the fans, I write to tell the story. I did not feel that it was the opportune moment to push a couple before the brink of disaster. They will get their moment, but I did not want to "rush" it. There is always that "next chapter". _

_Sukera__ – As long as you are apologizing, so will I. I find it really hard to tell sarcasm from sincerity sometimes. Anyway, you did sort of get me moving around again instead of just hanging around._

_Jumpin-jo__ – well, the story has finally been edited to completion, with a few little extras thrown in. I will not give a final chapter count, but it is pretty darned close to thirty. It has been an amazing journey, to say the least._

_Sparky24 – and, wouldn't you know, that was never my intention? The original story never had a Buffy pairing, so this was unexpected. I am rather pleased at the outcome, however. The first pairing is my biggest 'ship' of all times, while the second pairing just sort of randomly happened. In the end, however, all parties will be happy. _

_Lorency__ – oh, my dear, thank you. _

_Russa__ – I like this addition, too. It allows for me to comment to what you lovely people comment on. I know that others use this method, too, but it works nicely for me. As for Buffy's health, this chapter pretty much summed it up. I will just say that there is quite a bit that she can still see, be and do. And, yes, speaking about how hard it is to write comes from personal experiences. I am not a writer. I am an editor. Writing is only something I do to help ease the passing of time from spring until autumn when I can go back to graduate school to become an accredited teaching professional. Writing is just a hobby and one I hope to continue throughout the summer, at the very least. _

_Creative-Insanity – okay, first of all, I really like your user-name. Second of all, thank you ever so much for your comments. I really wanted the pairing to seem natural and not forced. I am a learning writer, and thus these things take time. _

_Rcaqua__ – I will get there, eventually. I am still working on the one-post-a-week thing where I hope to have both stories posted by June sometime._

_Evilelvengoddess__ – Aw, thank you! We both appreciate your comments!_

_Shapabo__ – Well, I am certainly glad that you appreciate the speed at which this relationship has progressed. It would be out of character for them both if she were to just accept something this small and what he feels towards her is not the deep, romantic kind of love. At least, not yet. He loves her as he could his own countryman because he has seen her true face of bravery. That is likely the easiest way to describe it. I thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to review this story! And, yes, this is the type of relationship that could take years to finally get to some means of an end. This isn't a spoiler as such, but merely a stated fact. _

_Vampy__, the chosen one – She'll catch a break, eventually. I think her big break is death, because that is what a Slayer truly is. Which pairing were you hoping for? I think this one works well enough for this story. I did not want to do a duplicate pairing, and I tend to favor the unconventional. It works for this story, as you said. And, oh, you have our thanks. To hear such compliments elicits pride._

Chapter Summary: The Men of the West make their last stand as the rest of the human world waits on bated breath.

Chapter Warning: This chapter became the epitome of our doom… deciding where to go from here, we decided to combine two separate elements into one chapter. The first would be the downfall of the Ring, described in all of four Tolkien pages. The second would be the two underlying romances, one which was beautifully begun in the previous chapter and one that has been sort of dormant until now. I still claim myself as a terrible action writer, but I do know how to describe things well, hence the reason why this chapter is far darker than others. You have been warned.

x-x-x

**Chapter 21**

**Last Stand**

_By Alyson Kay and Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

By dawn's light, the beating of wings far above their heads seemed to cease as the creatures took refuge within their own realm. The men moved as one, with the footmen along the interior, the horses pushed to the exterior to better protect the army in case of an ambush.

There was no resistance, but Buffy was hardly surprised. Sauron had them exactly where he wanted them. They were bait dangling on a fishhook that was far too sweet to swallow. Now in full view of the gates before them, Aragorn turned to his captains and they in turn moved to disperse their forces. Buffy obediently moved away from Gandalf, though the old Wizard looked after her as she did. She rode to stand before the Rohirrim, many who gazed at her. She looked right back at them, but there was no fear in her eyes. She wouldn't allow herself to be afraid. Not anymore.

And still, as they stood there, facing the gates expectantly, nothing happened. Feeling slightly foolish with six thousand others behind her, Buffy watched as Aragorn made a small gesture with his hand. A rather large group came forward, riding towards the gates. She felt her breath draw sharply and catch in her throat. Did they really have a death wish, all of them? She heard murmurings behind her, but refused to listen to them. She knew the men behind her were afraid. Hell, she was even imagining what sorts of horrors lay beyond the walls. They knew not what could come from behind those gates and after what she had yet seen, she half-expected something a lot worse. Sador began to dart anxiously to the left, but Buffy held tight. She refused to let herself show weakness in the eyes of these men, many who would quail and run seemingly at the drop of a pin.

The group consisting of Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Pippin, Éomer, Imrahil and their respective banner carriers and horn blowers had finally reached their summit. Aragorn rode forward alone, casting a daring glance up at the towering wall above him. Pippin stirred uneasily behind Gandalf, his small eyes taking in the size of the gallant wall and the darkness that seemed to seep from behind it. There was naught a sound, but all those gathered this close to their doom knew what fate awaited them on the other side.

At last, they came to a rest before the grand black gates and still, nothing happened. The heavy iron gates remained sealed beneath the spiked wall of the frowning archway. Aragorn alone seemed to ride forward and stand before the doors, preparing himself for what was to come.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" he shouted. "Let justice be done upon him! For wrongfully has he made war upon Gondor and destroyed its lands! The King of Gondor demands he should come forth!"

There was a long, creeping silence in which the fear seemed to abate from the eyes of the men behind the lines of Captains and heralds. There was anger now and the thirst for vengeance. Buffy knew that this was as dangerous as fighting fearfully. Vengeance led to death far faster than being afraid to fight. Though she could barely hear their words, she rode forwards slightly to hear what the others were saying, but not one of them spoke. They seemed to be waiting for Sauron to make this next move.

At last, there was the beating of drums that echoed through the mountains, spilling out into the great battle plain. A loud sounding of horns followed the drums, as the doors were released and, at last, the gates opened. Out from behind the gate rode Sauron's embassy.

At the head of the column was a hideous creature atop what appeared to be a horse. He, or she, was robed in all black, but it did not appear to be a Ringwraith. The others before the now-open gates were standing fast as the Orcs behind him quickly gathered around the dark figure, but he alone moved forward.

"I am the mouth of Sauron," the creature said, and even as it lifted its head, he was like no living man any had ever seen. His skin was marred with blemishes and scabs and blood seemed to trickle in his mouth as though he inhaled it. His voice was distorted, twisted by his evil and his malice. He spoke again, his tone disdainful. Buffy understood immediately why this creature was out talking with them. Sauron wanted to hurt them and, apparently, he was efficient at it. Buffy had been through this before, many times. The most recent event had to have been with Caleb and the First. She knew then what she was facing. Still, though, she hung back. She refused to leave the thousands behind. She was no lord nor was she a Captain of some great army. She was just someone dumped into a foreign land expected to do what she had been chosen to do. Her end had finally come.

And, yet, the creature spoke again. "Is there anyone with authority to treat with me," he asked, "or perhaps with wit to understand me?" He turned to Aragorn first, sensing his target. "It would take more than a bit of broken Elvish glass and a rabble to make thee a King." Though his eyes were hidden beneath his black helm, his lips twisted into a disdainful sneer as he met Aragorn's solemn gaze. Where one was arrogant and smug, perfectly set in the ways of following such darkness, Aragorn was his polar opposite. Aragorn remained steady on his horse and his gaze never faltered. The hideous creature soon recoiled and spat, "I will not be assailed! Such a course would be due for all of your misfits to seek certain death!"

"We have not laid one hand upon you," Gandalf said, his eyes darkening. "You have nothing to fear from us, until your errand is done. Sauron has sent you to speak on his behalf. Perhaps you would care to tell us what he offers or else he should send forth his legions and be done with it!"

"So," the Messenger said, his lips twisting as more black blood seemed to seep from nowhere, "you are the spokesperson, old Greybeard? You have been far treacherous than ever, hatching plots against my Master. You shall see what becomes of those whose wanderings go far against Sauron the Great! I have tokens that I was bidden to show if you should dare to come." He signed to a guard and the Orc rode up and brought forth a black package. Unwrapping the package, the black Messenger withdrew a small sword. They were all dismayed, Aragorn most of all, when they realized that a Hobbit had carried this weapon. There was also a long, greenish-grey cloak with an Elven brooch, and, lastly, a Mithril shirt.

Pippin was the one that broke the silence, crying out, "Frodo!" but Gandalf quickly hushed him, sending a fierce glare towards the young Hobbit who rode behind Prince Imrahil. But Pippin's face was stricken over the loss of his cousin, and his eyes were wary as he turned towards the Messenger.

"So, you do not deny that you know these," the Messenger said, practically seething with satisfaction. "What use you find in these children I cannot guess, but to send them as spies into Mordor, well… even a fool could see his error in such ways!"

Oh, how old Gandalf suddenly seemed as he gazed upon the items. "I do not wish to deny them," he said quietly, his eyes cast down.

"He was dear to you, I see," the Messenger said, twisting the proverbial blade even deeper. "His errand, which you have wished to succeed, has failed. He shall now endure a slow torment of years… who knew that someone so small could endure so much pain?"

From her small distance behind the group, Buffy closed her eyes. Yes, she thought to herself. How could anyone so small and so young go through so much pain? What kind of foolish destiny was it to suppose that only the smallest person could make a difference?

"Name your terms," Gandalf said quietly, for he suddenly appeared aged and withered, at last showing his true self as an old man, wise beyond his years but still not without his compassion. The Messenger's face lifted and it seemed that he was trying to judge Gandalf's reaction.

"It matters not my Master's terms," the Messenger said, sneering again as he twisted his head, glancing at each member within Gandalf's party. "You have utterly destroyed his forces and for this, he wishes to treat you with the same respect as he himself was treated when you dealt that crushing blow. Once his victory is made and your bodies swept aside, the lands you knew as Rohan and Gondor will be no more!"

Buffy glanced up, but there was undefiled fire within her eyes. She could feel the strength of Mordor in this moment. Sauron was testing them. She hoped that Gandalf would show his true strength. If he didn't, she was going to have to do something, and it wasn't something she wanted to do. Even as she rode closer, Gandalf gazed forward, his withered eyes lowering.

"That is quite the bounty for our insolence," Gandalf said, but it appeared to the others that his tone was in mockery. "If this prisoner is so great to you, why not return him to us and then have your war?"

"Sauron does not wish to destroy those who could be such valuable acquaintances," the Messenger said coolly. "Your spy will not return to you until his torment has been passed. You will recognize only a shadow of the child you once knew. His bidding is for you to return to your lands and await your doom, to leave Mordor untouched and leave Gondor unspoiled, forever. Take these, or leave them!"

Gandalf suddenly looked up, and reaching a hand across his breast cast aside his cloak, and a white light shone forth like a blinding flash of light. As the Messenger quailed under the light, Gandalf reached forward and took the three items back into his possession. "We will take what belongs to our own!" he said, finally pulling Shadowfax away. "We did not come here to waste words with an embassy. Our treat is with Sauron. Go, and be gone, for certain death is now upon you!"

The Messenger's face had twisted to one like a wounded scorpion backed into a corner, still able to strike painfully yet not having the power to do so. The creature turned on his horse and the embassy galloped madly back to Cirith Gorgor. The soldiers, however, blew the long-awaited signal and even as the Messenger crossed the gates, the first throngs of the enemy began pouring forth. Sauron had sprang his trap.

The drums began rolling as the doors of the Black Gate were swung back wide. Out streamed a great host, comprised of men, Orcs and the newly-bred half-Trolls, swinging their hammers menacingly. Even as Aragorn turned to the others, calling "Fall back!" the men who had remained behind straightened, knowing they would soon be surrounded. Buffy returned immediately to stand with the men from Rohan. Somehow, this is where she wanted to be. King Éomer soon rode and stood his steed beside Sador and both he and Buffy exchanged a long look.

Little time was left to organize the battle, but the men were spread as far as they could go. Slipping her hand to the hilt of her sword, she held it there as she stopped, Sador neighing softly from underneath her. She didn't want to put her faithful horse through such an ordeal. If they had time, she would have sent Sador back towards the Anduil. Behind them rose the banner of Rohan, the white horse on a dark green background. To their far right was the silver swan of Dol Amroth, blowing slightly in the foreboding breeze. The black standard of the north was raised at last, the seven stones glistening in the sun.

"I would not ask for you to fight for me this day," Éomer said quietly to Buffy as they watched the great host move behind their forces. She knew that this number was well above ten thousand. It just had to be. She may have sucked at math, but this was a little bit bigger than what she expected.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," she admitted, looking at him. He saw that she held her sword at the ready and smiled grimly, knowing that even though this could be the end, he would rather stand next to her than anyone else at this particular time. "Besides, you're kind of stuck with me."

The Orcs had taken to bashing their spears into their shields, creating such a racket that some of the men began to pale in their fear again. But Buffy remained strong and headfast as she rode forward, and then turned around. She glanced at the King and received a small nod from him. He knew that her words carried an impact with them. He was willing to test her on her ability to lead.

"All right!" she shouted, her voice barely carrying above the din from the Orcs now completely surrounding them. "Now, I know we've got a job to do, but we've done this before. We've been through this! This is nothing! Don't be afraid to do what you can! After we're dead, all that remains is our families, our homes… our futures. Don't forget the sacrifices we all made to be here! And don't be afraid to let loose, because they deserve one hell of an ass-kicking!"

Even as Sador came about, Éomer was looking at with a look of increasing respect. "That was not so bad now, was it?" he asked. She shrugged and drew out her sword, allowing the dim sunlight to glance off of its sharpest edge.

"It could have been worse," she admitted. "Besides, I—"

But, her voice suddenly died. She had just had the strangest sensation, as though someone in a dream were calling her name, someone asking for help. She slowly turned to face the open gates and, beyond that, she saw the tower with the glowing red eyeball on top of it. Besides being a bit disturbed by such a sight, she was also vaguely aware that it was calling to them. She heard her own title on the wind, as though a hiss of a serpent. "_Slayer…_"

She lifted her hand to brush a few wayward strands from her eyes before throwing it back over her shoulders. Lifting her sword to her forehead, she bounced it from her skin before sweeping it regally aside. "Come and get me," she whispered under her breath. "You know you want it."

As though Aragorn had sensed it, he turned upon his feet and grinned at the army standing behind him. The host had now emptied from Mordor and both sides stood, glaring at one another, waiting for one side to break.

This day, Aragorn made the choice that the men of the West should lead the attack. "For Frodo," he said, with that odd twinkle in his eyes as he spun about, taking off at a run towards the thickest of the army before him. He was quickly followed by the other Rangers, the Elves, his friends and the entire host from Dol Amroth. The Rohirrim kept to their right flank, turning instead to fight the ring around them. There was a fierce clash of metal against metal and soon the enemy forces began to close the noose as the heavy doors of the Black Gate began to close and the sounds of drumbeats began to fade away.

x-x-x

Éowyn had awakened that morning with a sense of foreboding. As she moved into the gardens, she took her usual glance out towards the hills of Mordor in the distance. The fires had long since stopped burning, but the sky was full of ash and a cold, impenetrable darkness. She could feel the brutal fury of her greatest enemy standing at such a distance and realized now that those she loved were in grave danger.

A cold wind swept from the mountains, unsettling her hair and causing her to shiver. Even though spring was fast approaching, it was still rather cold. She felt a strong sense of warmth suddenly as a cloak was draped over her shoulders. "Thank you," she said, turning to see Faramir standing beside her, his hands gently pulling the cloak about her neck as she turned to face him. He gently set the clasp and stepped back, regarding her with a bemused expression.

"You looked cold," he said at last by way of greeting as he glanced out over the wall of the fence, staring down over the city. It seemed to them that a hush had fallen over many, as they feared that all of their hopes and prayers would be forsaken by the great evil lurking only a small distance away.

"I can feel their fear," Éowyn said softly. "They understand that those they love will die and with it, our hopes and dreams."

"I never once saw that fear in your face, my Lady," Faramir said, turning to her with a knowing smile. "I do not wish to see it now."

"If my brother were to die, I would be alone to rule," Éowyn said, pulling the dark blue cloak around her shoulders. "I do not wish for this to happen."

"Your brother is strong and able," Faramir said convincingly. "He knows what it is he must do."

Éowyn smiled. Of course Éomer knew what he was doing. He was, after all, a marshal. "We must have hope," she said in a bright, clear tone.

"We must have hope," he echoed, his hand lightly touching hers. They remained at the gate for a little while longer before the wind grew far too cold, and they were forced to turn away.

x-x-x

All at once, hell seemed to break loose. It seemed as though the enemy army had been anticipating a wild brawl and soon were called to arms. There was the clashing of horns as well as shields and swords. Buffy found herself moving swiftly to her left and quickly taking down as many Orcs as possible, knowing that twice as many filled in the gap behind her. She heard the sound of hooves behind her, but her attention was riveted by the rather large force that seemed hell bent on preventing her from what she was attempting to do – drive a line through the center of the left-most flank.

But the men of Rohan refused to let that happen. They had no intention of leaving one of their most pivotal female fighters in a league of enemy swordsmen. Sador was extremely agile, considering that if she moved but one or two paces to the left or right, she would trample the poor men to death. Sensing her mistress's mind, however, she seemed to take great relish in treading upon the enemy.

There was a great shrieking sound above her. Whipping her head around, she caught sight of eight winged creatures advancing quickly upon them over the now-closed gates of Mordor. Their screams seemed to penetrate into her soul and she felt as though a great chill had hardened over her heart. She had heard many stories in the past few days from the men of Gondor, speaking of how Faramir and his men were picked off in groups by the Nazgûl during their flight from Osgiliath. Her eyes widened as she felt how close everything seemed to the end. Even in front of her, a man fell, his throat slashed from a vicious blow. His blank eyes stared into hers for a split second before his head hit the ground and his body rolled in the impact of the Orc delivering a second, unnecessary blow through the man's sternum. Taking out her rage and her frustration, Buffy drove her sword clean through the Orc's helmet before kicking it aside. She turned around to launch into a second offensive when the cry sounded again.

Sador bucked in a violent reaction to the sound, and Buffy found herself flying less-than-gracefully through the air once again. Where she landed, however, was not in friendly territory. When the group of Easterlings turned and saw a young woman lying on the ground looking slightly dazed, they turned and lifted their own swords.

Her salvation came in the form of her own sword. It drove through the shoulder of armor on one man before the hilt landed perfectly in her hand. She flipped back to her feet and kicked out at the figure, using a second roundhouse kick to send him spinning off to the right. She turned to the man next to him and as his sword swung dangerously close to her chest, she leapt back and, with a hint of flourish, lifting her sword under his, throwing off his own parry of retribution. She swung her wrist around, easily knocking the sword from his outstretched hand and yet another kick sent him sprawling on top of the first man. The others seemed to rush in all at once and she spun around, grinning coldly underneath her helm, which was still far too big for her head.

They seemed to attack all at once, but she took her time in dispelling them, knowing that one false move could mean her death. She didn't want to die. Not yet, anyway.

The endless cries of the Nazgûl were suddenly cut off, and a small voice seemingly right behind her cried out, "The eagles! Look, the eagles!"

Buffy spun around just in time to see the small Hobbit darting over the bodies, the look of disgust spreading across his youthful face. She caught a faint glimpse of a huge bird battling with the winged creatures, but none of that mattered to her. There was a large Orc advancing quickly on such easy prey as a Hobbit that she doubled her efforts to get to him before the Orc did.

Pippin, although he'd managed to kill several Orcs with his small, Westernesse blade, was easily outmatched by the larger figure. Though he struck out with his sword, the Orc took it with his hand and twisted it, throwing the young Hobbit onto the ground. The sword wrenched from his grasp, Pippin had no means to defend himself aside from lifting a stone and throwing it with all of his strength. It seemed to work as the Orc suddenly grunted, the rock glancing from his head. Pippin, realizing he had found a weakness, grasped around on the meadow for more rocks, but none could be found. He felt something hard step onto the backs of his feet and felt them crack under the pressure. He winced as the pressure grew. This Orc wanted to play with him before it took his life.

He suddenly felt the pressure lessen and glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening. He rolled out of the way just in time as the Orc collapsed. As Pippin glanced up, he saw a long spear that had been driven cleanly through the dark creature. Turning to see who had covered his neck when so many others were to be fought, he found himself gazing at a small figure that, unlike him, looked as though she belonged there.

"Come on," she said, reaching a hand down to help him up. He took her offered hand and stood up, staring in horror at the figure now oozing thick streams of black blood onto the field. "Stay with me… I'll look after you."

"I got separated," he said, collecting his sword and trying his best to stay behind this woman. She may be short, but her legs were far faster than any Hobbits' legs. "I must…" He quickly darted as she struck down another foe, this one landing very close to his feet. "… I promised that…" His voice quickly drew off into a squeak as a shadow of an eagle and creature locked in a mortal battle spiraled right above their heads. "I said…"

"Quiet," she hissed, quickly kicking another figure aside. Pippin took that opportunity to watch as she drove her sword through the armor on the Orc's body before twisting the blade and pushing him easily from the metal. "Stay close to me… I promise you won't get hurt."

But, in that moment, he hesitated. He knew that she was strong enough to look after him. She had saved him before. Directly in front of them, on his feet, was King Éomer, and Buffy was making a direct path towards him. Pippin shook his head and quickly ran behind her. She stopped every few paces to either kick or hit something in their path before she finally reached the King.

"I hope that you're enjoying yourself," she said breathlessly as the Hobbit moved behind him.

For some reason, Éomer looked immensely relieved to see her. The second she had gone from his line of sight, he had worried that she would fall in battle. But there she was, alive and well, although covered in Orc blood and carrying only her sword. And, apparently, she'd picked up a traveling companion in the form of a Hobbit, just a head shorter than she was, but still nevertheless frightened. Facing an onslaught from a forthcoming group of a larger breed of Orcs, the two exchanged a dark look before lifting their swords in defense. Buffy moved to the left quickly as Éomer swung his shield up, spinning it in a slight show of flair before they both leapt into battle, the remnants of the Rohirrim behind them quickly called to arms. Pippin, not seeing any other choice, quickly followed.

Buffy stayed low, her speed and her flexibility easily getting her through the lines. As she turned around, she spun her sword back into her firm right-handed grasp and looked around. No one, not even Pippin, had made it through. With a groan of frustration, she doubled back.

She had just kicked aside a single Orc when she saw a shield lying in the grass. For a second, her blood pounded in her ears and every sensation seemed to rush into her head as she saw that it was, indeed, a royal shield. She quickly bent down and took it by a corner before lifting it. Hefting it against her hip, she leveled it into her left arm before turning and whipped the shield through the tangle of bodies. It reached the intended target and fell to the side, its oily hands grasping the tip of the shield which had been directed into his neck. As she moved forward, her arm knocking an Easterling aside as she sped along, she noticed a solemn hand reaching down to retrieve the shield.

"That was you?" she asked innocently as she reached him, stabbing her sword slightly into the ground.

He was gazing at her, his eyes suddenly intense. "Perhaps now you will understand why—"

There was a sudden gasp from Buffy though as she felt something hard smash into her back and she stumbled forwards. Éomer managed to catch her, but not before she had taken her sword, still stuck into the ground, and had cloven his head cleanly from his body. "How about we do this later, if we both live?" she threw back at him, her eyes attentively searching for her next prey.

"That would work," he said, and his voice seemed to fade as Buffy took off, running towards Gandalf and Aragorn, whom she had just spotted. They seemed to be bearing the brunt of the attacks. Pippin wisely stole out from behind Éomer to follow behind her. But on her third or fourth step away, he found his voice and cried, "Look out!"

There was a half-Troll who attacked them both, bowling over the woman. Her sword went flying from her hand and she landed sharply on her stomach. Knowing that he owed her a life debt, Pippin stole forward and bent down, slashing the over-large Orc crudely behind the kneecaps. When the creature hissed and bellowed, Buffy snapped back to her feet. Even without her sword, she appeared formidable. Taking out her pale hand, she pulled off her helmet, shaking out her hair underneath. Her smile was cold, and her eyes colder still, but she couldn't resist her last comment. "You are so going to get it."

And then she let loose. Each punch, thrust and kick drove the creature towards the outer rim of the battlefield. Pippin followed behind her, collecting her sword which, in itself, was very heavy. With one final raw backhand, the creature let loose one final hit on her. As his fist grazed across her face, her head spun and her hair caught the light as she recoiled. Bringing up her bruised hand, she touched her face, but as she turned back, the creature did not see the fear it had counted on. It saw pure, raw fire.

For some time, they just stared down one another. The half-Troll seemed to back off, knowing what was coming. But, in that time, Pippin noticed a line of archers suddenly lining up behind the creature even as she dealt the mortal blow. Buffy caught sight of them just in time and turned to see Pippin standing there, his eyes wide, mortified, and her long sword dragging on the ground behind him.

"Look out!" she cried, and threw herself forward just as a series of arrows were released. She managed to dodge two, but as she threw herself in front of the Hobbit to protect him, one of the darts pierced into her right hand. It didn't hurt as bad as she thought it would, being an arrow from an evil land and all. Still, the impact forced her to her knees as she ripped out the dart and threw it aside. Rising, she saw the other archers taking aim for her now that they knew they had made a target. She heard Pippin murmur something behind her, and the next thing she knew a series of riders on horseback had come and were neatly beheading the archers one by one. "Are you all right?" she asked Pippin, turning to look at him as she got back to her feet, at last reclaiming her sword. As she took it in her right hand, however, the nerves suddenly died and the sword fell harmlessly to the ground. Both she and the Hobbit stared at it for a moment before Pippin took her hand.

"There was poison in that dart, I fear," he said, gazing at her with those frightened eyes.

"Great," she said, taking up her sword in her left hand while frantically shaking out her right. "This is exactly what I needed."

As another Orc approached them, she drove her sword through his abdomen at such an awkward angle that the tip came out near his shoulder blade. She quickly retracted it and, as she kicked him away, the poison seemed to catch up with her.

"Damn it," she muttered as she fell to her knees.

"No!" Pippin cried, his voice suddenly very far away.

She looked up and saw him standing in front of her. She could see the fear in his eyes as well as see the long lines of half-Trolls advancing rapidly on them. She should have known that going outside the boundaries of the Rohirrim would make them more tempting targets. But still, she had made a promise to these people and she wasn't about to let it be thrown away because of a stupid poisoned arrow.

She rose and took off running, taking Pippin by his shoulder. They stumbled between many fighting bodies until, at last, they had no room left to run. Before she could even mount a defense, a clawed hand came out of nowhere and knocked her over. Buffy flew through the air and landed hard on her side, her sword landing a good ten feet away from her. Turning onto her stomach, she began to crawl towards it when she felt the crushing weight of an Orc's foot on her lower back. She felt her body imprint itself into the ground as the troll drove his foot further, pushing her down. She sank several inches, her face now trapped in the muddy Earth. She heard Pippin's frenzied cries for help as she reached back and felt along her belt until she drew out her dagger. She took it and drove it through the bottom of the troll's foot. His retaliatory response was to swipe at her and she cringed as she felt the razor-sharp nails graze through her chain-mail armor.

Pippin watched helplessly as the troll drew up its hand to lift its hammer with both. As it prepared to level its final blow, however, two small Elvish blades seemed to come from nowhere and the Orc soon tumbled over. Buffy, feeling the weight disappear, quickly rolled to her left. As the figure landed heavily, she pushed herself off of the ground, gasping as she coughed and spluttered, tiny grains of mud and dead grass falling from her neckline. She turned towards her savior and found an Elf standing there, regarding her with a quiet nod before he turned and continued onwards. She felt a slight smile grace her features as she bent down to retrieve her sword for the second time. Lifting it with her left hand, she turned and gestured for Pippin to come. Before he could, however, a long stream of Rohirrim came between them on horseback. They had been riding in grand circles in the attempt to throw off the archers. It hadn't worked as well as Éomer might have hoped, however. Perhaps it was time to mount a new offensive. Seeing that Éomer and his Captains were once again pinned down by the largest of the forces, she quickly ran behind the horses, Pippin at her heels.

"Hey!" she shouted as they came about. "You, the rear, you need to take the left flank! It's about ready to crack! The rest of you… to the King!"

They decided to follow her orders, considering they really didn't know what they were doing other than riding around in circles in the vain attempt to throw off the archers. Eventually, though, the archers had grown bored in this tireless pursuit and had taken to firing their poisoned darts at the dying men, one by one. Buffy grimaced as she cradled her hand. Already she could see the black poison in her veins, creating a spider-web like pattern down to her wrist. Her wrist hurt like hell, but that wasn't about to stop her. As Pippin ran forward, she turned to shout again at the rearguard. "Cover the left flank! Use arrows if you've got any! Otherwise, cut off the—"

But, in that moment, her voice drew out in a long, shuddering gasp. Pippin spun around and recoiled at the sight of a deep red stain at the front of her mail. Through the stain, a silver tip twisted brutally and with a sickening splat the blade was drawn back. For a second, time seemed to stand still as she reached down to touch her abdomen as the sword withdrew brutally. The Orc began cheering in triumph over catching this figure unawares. Buffy pulled back her hand, staring at her own blood as it spread across her fingers and began dripping to the ground. Already, she could feel the pain settling in. It was exactly as she had seen it.

Pippin felt helpless as she stumbled to her knees. She blinked uncertainly, as though trying to figure out what was happening to her. One of the archers, seeing her down and completely oblivious to the battle around her, fired a second dart which pierced into her shoulder. She didn't even react to it. But as the Orc came to claim his final prize, she rose and spun around, her sword in her left hand. With a great crack, the figure was blown nearly twenty feet away, cleaved nearly in half by the force of her sword. Pippin, seeing the clearing, ran towards her.

"My lady!" he cried, reaching her side as she fell back to her knees. "My lady…"

"No," she said, shaking her head as she looked at him. "You have to get out of here now."

"I am not going to leave you," he said, tugging on her elbow. "You can still fight!"

But her eyes were troubled as she gazed at him. "I don't think there's much fight left in me now…"

She could see from his widening eyes that they were being approached by the half-trolls once again.

"You can't save me," she said, reaching out and suddenly grasping his hand. "Get out of here. Be safe… and…" Her voice seemed to fade as she blinked again before she suddenly collapsed to the side, her hand falling away from his. Pippin had but a second to think before he felt a cold hand touch his shoulder.

"No!" he cried, spinning around and driving his sword through the chin of the Easterling. "I will not leave you behind!"

"Go…" she moaned, holding her hand against her wound. Already, the poison was having the sobering effect that the sedatives and muscle relaxants Giles had once used on her. She felt extremely lofty, as though she were floating over her own body. As Pippin turned to go, a second hand reached for him. But this time, it was a friendly hand and it belonged to a man wearing a white tree with seven stars. "Get him out… please…" she said, and she choked as her own blood bubbled from between her lips.

The man gazed at her with pity and nodded, quickly stalking off. Pippin turned his head, his voice shouting as he kicked and screamed as he was dragged away.

Buffy pressed her forehead to the cold ground, feeling laughter bubble within her. There were tears in her eyes now, the tears of frustration that she was crying because she was no longer going to be able to do any good. What good could she do when she was dead?

She felt a set of claws reach down and grasp her by the back of her neck. Her body was subtly lifted into the air and thrown a great distance. She rolled over and over before coming to rest on her back. Already, she thought, she could see her life flashing before her eyes. But, before she could finally close her eyes to rest, she felt the crushing weight of the troll on her body. She reached up as its claws dug down, the nails scraping her flesh from the back of her neck to her throat. She struggled to reach around its' broad neck but soon snapped it. Unfortunately, its heavy arm fell across her throat, which had been cut by his nails. Her oxygen supply nearly cut off, she nearly blacked out from the stench of the creature atop her, as well as the mounting poison within her blood stream.

There was a great feeling of dread suddenly in her heart. The Nazgûl were screaming again. Lifting her eyes as the orc's black blood began to ooze down her face, she saw the eight creatures flying back over the mountains, which were behind her. Beyond them, however, she could sense a great danger. Everything was beginning to come apart and there was nothing she could do to save herself now. She fumbled in the desperate attempt to move his body, but it wouldn't budge. She relented at the fact she had been holding her breath for nearly four minutes now, and breathing still wasn't coming any easier. That sword must have found her lungs. It would explain why she had been coughing up blood…

The next few minutes seemed to pass as an eternity. She saw her entire life flash before her eyes. She saw her mother, her father and Dawn. She saw Xander and Willow and the rest of her friends. She saw Giles and Faith and those who had shared her destiny with her. And, lastly, she saw the Rohirrim, who had placed their faith in her, knowing that she had the power to lead them into battle.

What a disappointment she must have turned out to be.

But even as these thoughts flashed through her darkening mind, another troubling thought seemed to stir… one that ended with a question she could not answer. What if this wasn't supposed to be her journey's end? What if she was supposed to do something else, be someone else? Was she supposed to live through the peaceful times to finally have an idea what true peace was really like? And… what if she didn't want to die?

The thoughts seemed to fade. The light was fading now. Another body had collapsed on top of theirs, and she felt her body press into the ground again. The blood was nearly obstructing her vision, and it was beginning to run into her nose. She still couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter anymore. All she had to do was close her eyes and the last three weeks of her life would be erased. She would simply become someone else's memory.

Even as a silent hush fell over the battlefield, followed by a resounding crack as the earth around her began to dissolve, she exhaled sharply for one last time and was swept forever into the darkness.

x-x-x

Even as chaos ensued, Pippin made a desperate attempt to keep his thoughts about him as he finally pushed off the offending Gondorian soldier and went off to look for the woman he had left behind.

All he knew was that she was dear to the King of Rohan. He may not be a lot of things, intelligent amongst them, but he was perceptive. He had seen something in the glance that the King and this woman had shared. Was she betrothed to him, perhaps? The King would never forgive him if he let her go!

"Buffy!" he cried out, as he reached the edge of the plains. "Buffy!"

The earth was gone, he thought, racing amongst the piles of corpses and gazing into the abyss that lay beyond. Even as Gandalf flew overhead on the backs of his eagles, Pippin grimaced at the dark reflection in the never-ending chasm.

Turning, he began pushing random bodies into the chasm, after making absolute certain they were enemy soldiers and not those that had been once near and dear to the captains and all the royal leaders who were now coordinating the final offensive to the fleeing army.

King Éomer began to realize that Buffy was missing only when he thought that she alone could lead the last attack against the departing army. But she was nowhere to be seen. He felt the clinch of panic in his stomach and knew that either she had survived and was buried amongst the foul-smelling wreckage about them or she had not survived at all. He was desperately hoping that it was the first option, because he refused to accept her death. He quickly called the Rohirrim to him and questioned them.

"Have you seen Merilin?" he asked in his deep voice. The others exchanged wary glances. One or two quickly spoke up, saying they had seen her fighting off one beast or another. But not one of them could say for certain whether or not she had fallen. He quickly turned away, unwilling the others to see his grimace before he turned back. "Search everywhere," he ordered quickly. "You must find her."

The others murmured their assent as they quickly scattered and began the long search. Éomer himself moved forward, rolling over the dead Orcs to examine the bodies hidden beneath. He knew he was acting rather foolish, but he had promised himself that he would see no harm come to her. She had saved him, though. It seemed to be a rather touchy habit of hers. He had just risen to move towards another tangle of bodies both human and non when he heard a small voice calling to him.

"King Éomer! Thank goodness I found you!"

It was Pippin, the foolish little Halfling. He turned to face the young man, whose face was taught with anxiety. "Yes?" he asked, rather impatiently.

"I have heard you wanted word of Buffy," he said quickly, not wanting to delay too long, for this King was known to be impatient and it seemed to him that he cared for this Buffy. "I have seen her fall, but could not reach her body. It is far buried."

"Show me," Éomer said, and Pippin nodded, quickly disappearing between the throngs of men. He noticed that there were a few severely injured men sitting upright, looking both dazed and confused, but he didn't pause to check on his own men. Those who had been searching in vain broke off their pursuit when they realized that Éomer was all but running towards one of the distant circles, near a sharp drop off. When Pippin stopped running, Éomer glanced at the number of bodies that were before him. They were entirely Orc except for a small bit of a cape that he could see. It was damp with the oily black blood of the Orcs and yet he knew that one of his people was trapped beneath an avalanche of dead enemy soldiers.

The first Orc rolled easily away, but there were more trapped beneath it. The others came and began pushing the bulky figures away. It was only when the caught a glimpse of golden hair did their efforts intensify. At the bottom of a rather large pile of bodies was a small figure. She wasn't very noticeable at first, but Éomer soon recognized her face, although it was nearly undetectable under thick coats of mud and the Orc's black blood. He drew her out from under the troll and lifted her in his arms. Pushing her blood-coated hair from her face, Éomer gently cradled her. His first cry of frustration and agony quickly alerted the others that he had found what he had sent the others to look for.

Pippin cautiously stepped over the bodies and knelt down beside them, his eyes wide as his small hands gently moved down her armor-clad arm to her wrist. He winced as he turned her palm upwards and saw the black spider web-like poison spreading from the bolt that had been fired to kill him. Her skin was very cold to the touch, and her face appeared lifeless, transparent… there was no color remaining in her once radiant expression. As he felt her bruised wrist for a pulse, he watched as the young man before him gently cupped her cheek in one hand, glancing down at her face with growing despair in his tone.

"Long have I feared this," he said, almost as though he were speaking to himself as the other Rohirrim gathered around them. Many looked startled at the woman's body draped in their King's arms. They quickly cast their eyes downwards.

"She has gone cold," Pippin said in an anxious tone. No matter how many times Éomer would shake her; she did not stir or utter a sound.

Éomer shook his head as he set her upon the ground, now clear of the bodies of their former enemy. She looked so peaceful lying before him, her eyes closed. Her blood had since dried as she had been unconscious for hours now. As Pippin was about to release her wrist, he felt something pulse beneath his touch. His eyes quickly glanced down, but there was no mistaking it. She was still alive. Éomer seemed to have sensed it, too, as he had lifted her by the shoulders and sat, gazing into her calm face.

"She's alive," Pippin said quietly, handing the King her wrist. Éomer frowned as he took her hand. It felt so limp and lifeless in his grasp that he was certain the Hobbit couldn't possibly be right. "She needs help, my Lord, but she lives."

"How can this be?" Éomer asked quietly, rising with the bundle in his arms. She was surprisingly light-weight, despite the multitudes of armor she wore. She appeared even frailer now, yet in the light he could clearly see that there was a flush to her fair features he had not seen in the darkness. As the light of day overwhelmed them, the sunlight met her face. Though she did not stir, it seemed to them that her skin still held warmth. She was truly alive.

x-x-x

An entire army recovers from their final battle, while, for one woman, this is only the beginning…

And a personal note from Alyson… there was another sequence between Éowyn and Faramir that was cut from this chapter because the chapter itself would have been far too long. It will be included in the next chapter. Of course, there will be a bit of, well… mush in the next chapter. That is just a bit of forewarning!


	22. Because I Could Not Stop For Death

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: We are finally on the "home stretch", so to say. It has been one "hell" of a ride.

_Lorency__ – Buffy's going to have to fight both poison and a stab wound through her chest, not to mention a few cracked bones. She is definitely going to need time to recover from this, but at least this wasn't the terrible end she had predicted! The rest of her dream is spelt out here on how she thought it would 'end'. _

_Claddagh__ – I had to stop there. I couldn't add any more angst… I felt overtaxed. Besides, it was better than my original ending, in which Éomer finds her and then thinks she's dead, and you don't figure out she is alive until this chapter._

_Toras__ – why, thank you! And, yes… I realize that… you are the first person to bring it up. While the idea of throwing a figure at another who is already book-betrothed, well… it just worked well for the story. I edited the "pairings" part. I would understand if you did not wish to read further, but I am going to keep this same pairing. It really was a choice between two, and this one seemed to work out better in the end._

_Sparky24 – You are such a dear, you know that? I know I sound like my mother, but you truly are. Thank you for your comments. And, yes, I think mush would be a great thing to have after, well… a final battle._

_Lizzie – Oh, dear… don't cry! Everything is going to be all right… err, honest…_

_Anneliese__ – It was never an intended pairing. It sort of caught on about halfway through the story. I found it to be something we could work with, so we explored it. I have been to 'Twisting the Hellmouth' before, because I review there, but I have yet to post anything. I might have to consider that, because I do read over there. _

_Russa__ – Okay, okay, I promise I will stop with the self-doubt thing. As for Buffy, she is alive. As for okay, well… that may take awhile. Thank you for your comments (and compliments)… it really does help._

_Pamie884 – well, thank you very much! I am sorry however for your tears… it was not my intention to cause any! As for what comes next, we are on the "home stretch" so to speak. There is still a little bit that is left to tell, though. _

_Rcaqua__ – of course… here you go._

_Hithwen__ Tinuviel – okay, that is one of the nicest compliments I believe we have received. Thank you. This is hard, considering Buffy isn't really "our" character or our favorite character for that matter. It means a lot that you think so!_

_FallenStar2 – well, thank you very much!_

Chapter Summary: As their victory becomes clear, both injured and not recover from a war that had devastating effects on the entire world.

Chapter Warning: This chapter was meant to be the sort of chapter that comes after a war… relief, gratitude and cheer. I just _had_ to include the two-and-a-half page addendum from Éowyn and Faramir from the last chapter. The title for this chapter comes from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name… I thought it had a really fitting theme for the entire chapter. Once again, it is a longer one, but these next few are going to be a bit, well, long. In the next few chapters, there is mush abound! But I felt that this chapter, more than any, gave the payoff.

x-x-x

**Chapter 22**

**Because I Could Not Stop For Death**

_By Alyson Kay_

x-x-x

It was deep into the night by the time the ships had arrived. They had been docked at Cair Andros following the victory of the forces there and they were under the captainship of Elfhelm, one of Éomer's Captains. Once the ships were docked, the injured were quickly loaded aboard, along with the few supplies they had remaining. It was also under the combined forces of the Dúnedain and the sons of Elrond that the remnants of Sauron's forces were chased back towards Ithilien in another hapless pursuit, one that would finalize their victory for certain.

Gandalf had returned with Frodo and Sam and Pippin was keen to look after his fellow Hobbits. He was also most concerned about the blonde woman who had been with the Rohirrim. Many were relieved to see that she lived, but her situation was most dire. Aragorn was the first to tend to her, and she barely moved even when he called her from her sleep.

"It seems her ills go far beyond what we thought," Aragorn said to Gandalf, who refused to leave the side of his pupil.

"She was certain she would not outlive this battle," Gandalf said, watching as Aragorn gently cleansed the deep scar on her palm. The black poison had breached her hand and had extended into her wrist and along her fingers. Her armor had been removed, admitting a large chest wound that caused Aragorn to grimace slightly when he realized that she had been run through by a sword. She had great strength indeed if she had outlived this. There were also two darts of poison that he had been able to see, as well as a few cracked ribs and many, many bruises. "It is a miracle she survived at all."

"Perhaps she realized that she did not want to leave this world," Aragorn replied, checking on her tightly wound bandage around her chest and abdomen. He gently replaced her shredded tunic before lifting a blanket to her shoulders. "I have done all I can. Only her strength will ensure her survival."

Gandalf watched as Aragorn departed, but he refused to leave Buffy behind. As he watched her unconscious form attempt to heal itself from its many hurts, he began to think of the reason why she would not allow herself to let go of a world she barely knew.

"Perhaps you were not ready to let this world go," he said softly, watching a muscle along her jaw twitch as the stinging solution Aragorn had applied to her raw skin began to seep in. "Perhaps you care more for this world than you believe you ever wanted. If this is the case, you must find the strength within yourself to hold on and to fight the poison. I want you to live. There is much yet for you to see and be and do. But only you can decide your next fate." He turned and sat upon a bench, his eyes never leaving her face. "But know this – you have friends amongst these people and I myself consider you to be dear. It would be a pity for you to give in now."

x-x-x

It was dark, even in the labyrinth of passageways in her mind. Buffy knew she was sleeping, but she could not quite place the pieces around her. They were all in motion, with voices and sounds and colors all swirling around her. And her head ached at the thought of seeing them all in pain or with great joy. It was as though her life was flashing before her, with Dawn's birth and her return home from the hospital. She saw flashes of her closest friends, her mother's death, her friend's betrayal and Faith, her sister Slayer and the only other person who understood what it was like to be her.

There were so many of them, all calling out to her, all telling her it would be okay to just let go.

But, she didn't want to let go. There was still so much she had to know. What had happened to Éowyn, the tremulous soul she had left behind in that big tiered city to face her own inner demons? What of the people she had served? Did they no longer matter to her?

Her mind was trying to convince her that they were all okay, but it wasn't something she was willing to buy.

And then she saw it. Vast green shores under a brilliant golden sun. She felt a smile adorn her face as though hovering above her body. There were waves crashing against sandy beaches and a line of trees in the distance. She could smell the air and could practically taste her freedom.

At last, she had everything she had ever wanted. She had been loved and lost, forgotten and befriended but the one thing she never knew was if those she cared most for had survived the end. She wanted to hold onto this feeling forever, but she knew also there would be another time. It was time to let go of this. It was time to let go of the freedom. She was willingly giving up her chance at Heaven and the life after.

She wanted to go home.

x-x-x

Éowyn joined Faramir on the third day past the victory of their forces. It was a very cold morning and Éowyn had been bound in a thick cloak that had been given to her by Faramir. He took one look at her and admitted that the cloak had once belonged to his mother. "You do not know the vision you have given me when adorning that," he said wistfully, watching as she moved to sit beside him.

"It is cold and this brings me warmth," she said, curling her hands inside the cloak and drawing it up to her face to feel the material shimmer against her pale cheek. She grimaced suddenly, lowering her hand. Faramir watched as she leapt to her feet and strode the length of the garden until she reached the wall. He saw her searching eyes.

"What sense you?" he asked, watching as she reacted to the quiet mountains in the distance.

"Since the victory, I have thought of nothing but death," she said quietly. "I only wish I knew of Merilin's survival. How I wished she could have remained! She was a wonderful friend and, for a time, one of my people." She pressed a hand to her lips. "My brother loved her."

"You have spoken of this," he said gently, his hand touching her shoulder. "But he is strong and valiant! Surely word will soon reach us. The moment the victory was secured, half of our stores were sent to Osgiliath to prepare for their coming."

"Your duties no longer lie with me," she said, bowing her head slightly. "I do not know why you remain."

"I see you as fair and beautiful, my lady," he said, reaching down to take her hand. "There is not a man who could deny what I have seen and have come to love and admire these past few days. I know that you have the strength to endure what has come to pass." Bending over, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Do not think for one moment that your kin will not return to you. If they have half of the strength you possess, they will prevail. You will see them again."

She felt a misty smile fall onto her face and exhaled. She had no idea where this man would come up with such optimism, but it made her feel that much better as he consoled her. She let him draw her closer and lifted her arms to wrap tightly about his shoulders, resting her cheek to his chest. When she stood here, she had no thoughts of impending death, doom or destruction. She was completely at peace, with both herself and her surroundings. She half-wondered if it would always be like this, since her thoughts most of the time were frigid and dark. But here, she thought, no dark dream could penetrate this.

It was almost as though she were fond of their meetings. He had accused it of her the day before. She had admitted that, for awhile, she forgot about everything else. She just wanted to forget, to be someone that she knew she wasn't meant to be. How could she pretend to be a lady when she was a hot-blooded woman with desires that lay beyond serving any man? She longed to be out in battle!

She lifted her face to his and his hand gently caressed her cheek. "My Éowyn," he teased, touching his forehead to hers. "I only wish we could have more time."

She wished so, too. They had such precious little time to spend in one another's company that she felt her darkness start to quell. She didn't want it to, but there was no stopping an inevitable disaster. "Must you go?" she asked quietly as he stepped away. "I do wish you could remain."

"There is a reason for me to part," he explained. "I have my responsibilities now, and a Stewardship to attend to. But I wish you well, Éowyn. This city could use a bit of your touch, though from the hardest of hands. The day may come when your brother calls for you and you must be prepared to go to him."

"I may not wish it," she said quietly, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise as he gazed at her. "I would not like to leave you behind."

For a long moment, they exchanged a look before he stepped closer to touch her face again. It seemed in that moment her gaze softened and her eyes became like identical pools of liquid blue crystal. "This is your life, my Lady. I have no say in what you do or what you believe to be right."

But she wished he would, she realized as he walked away. She crossed her arms and returned to the guardrail, glancing at Minas Tirith as it sparkled in the cold sunlight below. She wished that he could do something to chase away her darkest dreams, calling her unto death renowned by a glory unsurpassable.

It was in this moment, perhaps, more than any other that she realized that it was him she needed most of all.

x-x-x

It was a gentle sound. There was a light breeze that was whistling through treetops while the faint scent of sage and lavender wafted through an opening. The air was warm and pleasant and outside there was the sound of the faint trickling of water.

It had to be as close to Heaven as she could get. Gandalf had spoken of long white shores and turquoise waters. It would make sense that wherever she was had those things.

It seemed to be until she heard the sound of laughter.

Buffy's eyelids fluttered open, taking in her surroundings. She was lying on a cot of some sorts with a few blankets tucked in neatly about her. There was a tent erected all about her, but from what she could see, she was the only inhabitant. A fair breeze was blowing through the open flaps, and a pitcher of water and a flat tray containing bits of herbs were blowing in the slight breeze.

This wasn't exactly what she had in mind. The last thing she remembered was the stench of the half-Troll crushing her beneath him. She hadn't had the strength to move him, either and for this she felt shame. There had been an intense pain and Buffy, who had felt her journey come at last to an end, had closed her eyes and prepared to let go of every last aspect of this world. She had only been here a short time. Or, rather, she had only been _there _a short time, hadn't she?

Pulling her hands from under the covers, she felt her arms and brought her fingers to her face. It seemed so much more real than a dream. She pinched the skin on her shoulder and blinked. It had actually felt like she had pinched herself. She couldn't really hurt herself, but that didn't mean that where she was wasn't some reality…

She pulled her hands from her face and stared at them. Her right hand was wrapped in some sort of linen bandage. She had a faint recollection of a poisoned dart going straight through her palm in her attempt to save the Halfling. She ripped the linen from her palm and saw the bruise and markings, suggesting that her memories were indeed intact. But, if she were dead, why would she remember how she died? Why would she carry the scars from the battle? What if she wasn't… dead?

That would mean that she was still alive.

Her hands immediately went to her abdomen, inspecting the marks left over from where the sword had impaled her. Lowering her dressing gown, she continued to blink, not comprehending what was happening.

She felt a pair of eyes on her and quickly straightened, focusing her attention on the figure that had suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Gandalf?" she asked.

He looked surprised to see her awake and staring at him so. He stepped aside as one of the Elves entered. When he saw her, his face broke out into a wonderful smile.

"She lives!" he said in relief as he came forward, pouring a glass of water and pushing the goblet into her weakened hands. "Take a drink, my Lady."

"Okay," Buffy said slowly, taking a bit of the water. It was the most wonderful tasting fluid she had ever ingested. "That was… good."

The Elf took the goblet from her hands and set it aside. "How feel you?"

"I'm… alive," Buffy said, turning as Gandalf nodded, a smile breaking out over his ancient face. There were only a few questions on her mind, and before she could stop herself, she found herself gushing. "How? Why?"

"There is only one reason as to how," Gandalf said, leaning on his staff and surveying her as he would his child. "The poison in your blood had not yet killed you. Aragorn was able to banish the worst of it. This is how you live still."

"It doesn't answer the question as to why," Buffy said dryly, her fingers subconsciously probing the large circular mark on her hand.

"I will take my leave," Elrohir said, bowing his head and ducking out of the tent. He looked as though he couldn't get away fast enough.

"Your plan failed rather miserably," Gandalf said, looking somewhat pleased at telling the Slayer she was wrong about the people of this world. "They would not forget you as easily as you would have forgotten them."

"The Rohirrim saved me?" she asked quietly. After being such a nagging priss to them, she couldn't understand why they would want to save her, let alone ensure her survival.

"One Rohirrim saved you," Gandalf replied fervently.

"Oh," she said, glancing down at the dirty bandages lying in her lap. Inside, she could feel her spirits swell. It seemed as the hope she'd thought was bad luck was still alive after all. She felt such joy at overcoming certain death that as she glanced back up, the Wizard could see the tears sparkling in her hazel eyes.

"Shall I take my leave?" Gandalf asked, watching as she pressed her hands to her eyes and brushed the rebellious tears away.

She shook her head. "No," she said, giving him a shaky smile. "Tell me what happened. I have to know how it all ended."

"You already know," Gandalf said, giving her his wizened smile. "I trust that the knowledge has been passed."

"I want to hear it from you," she said insistently.

"Very well," he said, lifting his robes and approaching the bench next to her bedside. But before he could sit down, another figure had stepped inside the tent. "Perhaps another time," he said, patting Buffy's shoulder as he left the tent without another word. Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but all words failed her when she saw the look being directed to her by the King of Rohan.

"Hi," she said, quickly smiling.

He didn't say anything. He walked towards her before bowing his head. "My Lady."

Her words were stuck in her throat. "Good battle, huh?" she asked, trying to take the attention off of herself.

"We emerged victorious," Éomer said, his eyes clear and bright as he looked upon her.

"That much is obvious," she said, gesturing to the quiet atmosphere. "Where is everyone?"

"Many are healing like you," he replied. "The others are awaiting the Ringbearers to awaken from their deep sleep. We have much to celebrate now that Sauron has been destroyed."

She had needed to hear it from him, she thought. The war was over. The greatest evil in this world had been destroyed. The war had come to an end. And, yet, she was still alive. It really _was _a miracle.

She looked down. Her fingers picked at the loose threads on the blanket as she struggled to say what she really wanted to. Finally, she felt him take the seat Gandalf had been so close to taking. "You saved my life," she said at last.

"I could not let you die," he said, watching as she looked up at him, slightly confused.

"You could have," she said with a tight smile. "I've been there before. I wasn't afraid to let go."

"You did not have anything left to fear," Éomer replied evenly. "I did."

"I was so ready to let this all go," she said tragically, hanging her head. "I was such an idiot."

"You acted as though you had lived your life," Éomer replied.

"I have," Buffy insisted, but he wasn't looking at her. He was reaching over and took her injured hand into his own. "How long have I been out?"

"Not two days ere the sun rises," Éomer replied, his callous fingers gently stroking her hand. She never would have pegged such kind movements from such a man, she thought, staring at the action as though she couldn't believe her eyes. "Your hand has healed rapidly."

"One of the good effects of being a Slayer," she said as he tenderly set her hand down. "How are the others?"

"We lost a few good men," he admitted.

_We?_ She thought to herself, feeling even more confused.

"The others that live await your return," Éomer said, getting to his feet as a man who had completed his mission. "They will be most pleased to see you again." He paused. "I have sent word to Éowyn of your recovery. For someone who has taken great ills on this journey, she could use tidings as glad as these."

She watched as he left, feeling overwhelmed. She hadn't counted on this. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she would survive the last battle. She had no idea what happened next or where to go from here. She had counted on a death, no matter how painful, one in which she would fade away and know that all she had lived and fought to protect was looked after. She hadn't thought of this.

There rest of her life was a long road, completely unknown, standing straight before her. She had worked to cut off the only people that had grown close. And now, after days of alienation, she was alive and well as though none of it had happened.

Apparently, her journey didn't end with her death.

The light soon faded and she heard the sounds of song and music in the distance. She rose and glanced around, looking for something to cover her plain white gown with. She found a green cloak that was far too large for her size, yet she wrapped it snugly around her small frame as she slipped past the tent. She was greeted by one of the most beautiful sights she had yet to see.

The sun was setting behind the mountains in the west. She stepped forward and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the day's last light. A soft breeze played around her hair, and she felt a strange sense of comfort fall over her. It was almost as though something was telling her she was going to be okay. There was a reason she was still alive, she fathomed. She just hadn't come across it yet.

"My lady?" a voice asked near her elbow. She turned slightly to see one of the taller Rohirrim standing at her shoulder. "You should not be out of bed; you were gravely hurt and to walk about would only injure you further."

"I'm okay, really," she said, giving him a bright smile. "I'm a little sore but after what I went through, I won't complain. How are you holding up?"

He looked surprised but touched by her concern. "I was uninjured," he admitted. Before she could turn away, he added, "When King Éomer told us tidings that you lived still, it brought hope to many of our hearts. In the future, he wishes for you to remain with us, as do we all."

Well, that was certainly a plausible career choice, she thought ironically as she nodded. "I'll think about it."

"You should have seen him," the man continued as Buffy stepped away. She half-turned to glance behind her. "He had many of us searching for you once the Halfling had told him you had fallen. I had never seen him as distraught as when he had believed you lost. He was adamant that he find you whether you lived or not."

To know that someone here cared about her enough to do such things was surprising to her, yet she felt her head nod. "Thank you," she said warmly. "I mean…"

"My lady," he said, bowing and ducking into the shadows. Her eyes followed after him until she felt the warm, pleasant glow in her stomach return. She had only felt it once before and that was when Éomer had brought her tidings of the last debate.

Éowyn had been right. Éomer did have feelings for her. His persistence in finding her had proved it. He had tried to tell her, but she had refused to let him, twice! What kind of person was she?

The truth was, this new King was appealing to her a lot more than the old, grumpy Marshal. The prospect of such responsibility had humbled him into someone she respected. Of course, she'd respected him when he'd had his sword and was about to thrust it down her throat, too. But this was different. This was almost… well, she couldn't quite place it. She didn't have to. Any second now, someone would be there to tell her what she was supposed to do with herself.

Any second now.

She opened her eyes but found that she was still standing alone near her tent. In the distance, she could see the smoke from dozens of fires. There were men lifting large tankards to victory. She thought she could see Gandalf standing near Aragorn as the two applauded the Halflings as they danced in silly circles, singing about their pub from the Shire. She moved closer, standing amongst the women laughing and applauding the Hobbits on. Buffy felt a strange sense of attachment to both of them. Sure, they were both slightly daffy at times, but when something really mattered, they stood out farther than any able-bodied man because their heart surely made up for their lack of height.

They were soon called out to tents along the fields and Buffy found herself sitting in a tent that was rather empty. This suited her fine. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. She had only been sitting a few moments before a cheerful face peered around the flap of the white tent.

"She's in here!" Pippin called, before stumbling over to the bench where Buffy sat. "You're awake!"

Merry's face, alight from what was likely ale, appeared over Pippin's shoulder. "When Gandalf told us, we thought he was mad!"

"Yes, I'm awake," Buffy said, swallowing her greens and nodding to the benches across from her. "You can sit if you want."

"Many thanks," said Pippin, who was in danger of tipping his plate. "We must thank the fine men of Gondor for bringing us this from their stores." He looked longingly at his bread and greens and began eating with almost unnatural flourish. Buffy picked though her greens before setting her plate aside.

"How are you both?" she asked, glancing at each Hobbit.

"I'm mostly healed," Merry said, nodding. "When they sent word to Minas Tirith that the Men of the West held victory, I rode directly to the fields." He gazed at the tent and the long grasses it covered with a particular fondness in his eyes.

"I'm glad," Buffy said, leaning onto her knees.

"You kept me from the greatest harm," Pippin said, his eyes blinking as they gazed into hers. "My life was saved because of you."

"I'm just happy you're both alive and well," she replied, stretching slightly as she got to her feet. "Now, if you'll just excuse me, I'll –"

But there was another figure staring at her from the other side of the tent. Gimli, the Dwarf, stood there, his jaw slightly agape before a broad smile came to his small face. "The luck you must possess, lady!" he roared, leaping into the tent with a jovialty that somewhat unsettled the young Slayer. She was fine with the company of two slightly tipsy Hobbits, but with a Dwarf, she knew she was no contest. "Bless your heart!"

"Gee, Gimli," she said, struggling to smile as the Dwarf clapped her shoulder hard. "It's good to see you, too."

The noise had prompted another visitor. Cool cerulean eyes scanned her pale face before the Elven figure stepped inside. 'Well, now we have a party started," she said, moving her plate to allow more seating.

"Forgive the intrusion," Legolas said in his calm tone as he towered over the small Hobbits, still eating and drinking noisily with glee. "Gimli was curious as to your condition."

"As were you," the Dwarf shot back with a cackle.

"I'm here and I'm in one piece," she said, holding out her arms to show that she was, indeed, as she said. "There's no need to worry."

"It was far better to see this progress with my own eyes," Gimli said with a stout nod.

"Considering how bad it got, I'm just amazed I'm still here," Buffy admitted in a low voice. Legolas looked puzzled as he gazed at her. "I thought I was going to die… but then, I thought… why would I want to die? I didn't come here to fight a war for three weeks and suddenly keel over… there has to be something else. There has to be a greater purpose… but… I don't know it."

"There are many uncertainties in life," Legolas said, walking over and taking the empty seat on the bench next to her. "It is not knowing the direct path that brings spontaneity to living."

"So, what you're basically telling me is that life goes on," she said with a sigh. "I thought that much. I just wish I knew where to go from here."

"There will be many days to recover from all of the hurts," Pippin said, lowering his goblet, his small face very serious. "Many were hurt badly in the final battle."

"There are many who still pursue the remnants of the forces," Gimli replied.

"There are even more who prepare for the coming of a King," Legolas said, a small smile gracing his features. "If this is not your journey's end, it is mostly his."

"Aragorn," Buffy said under her breath, turning her face away from their prying eyes. Of course, she thought. His return would secure the world of men. It really didn't give her a place in this world, but it certainly gave her a start.

Before one of the others could comment, there was a commotion outside of the tent. Buffy rose and swept past Gimli and quickly ducked under the tarp. In the distance, there was a line of horses and riders returning and she felt an overwhelming sense of relief to know that the battle had finally come to an end. The others followed her out as they approached the riders, led by one of the Rohirric Marshals. She felt her smile broaden as she saw their victorious smiles as they dismounted, throwing their fists into the air as word around camp rang true that the remnants of the Orcs and wicked Men from Mordor had finally been defeated. With them were riders from Minas Tirith, bringing with them banners and instrumentalists. Buffy felt her smile falter when the horses stepped aside to allow another group through; these men were driving wagons with both the wounded and the dead. The sounds of celebration faded as people noticed the wagons roll by. Buffy lifted her eyes and attempted to smile again, but this time, she couldn't.

She decided to follow the wagons to see what she could do to help. Her body was, for the most part, healing rapidly and she felt she owed these people something considering they had brought her back from the brink of death. The wounded were quickly placed in the tents while those who had the ability to heal went quickly after them. The dead were brought to a massive grave and buried.

Buffy remained there long after the sun had gone down and the stars twinkled overhead. She was about to retire to her own tent when she felt the presence of someone approaching her.

"My lady," King Éomer said, bowing his head slightly. "I have been looking for you. I wish to have a word."

She followed him through the darkness. In the fields of the valley below, there were still chants and songs of celebration. From where she was standing, it seemed almost surreal. "What's on your mind?" she asked, as he paused to stare at his people down below, a slight smile on his face. She shivered inwardly. Anytime she saw this man smile, it sent shivers down her spine. He was much more prominent at glowering.

"There are many things to consider 'ere I return to Rohan," he said, turning to glance at her. Even in the darkness, she could feel the penetrating intensity of his eyes. "Will you return to Edoras? Or have you other plans?"

She shook her head quickly. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do," she admitted. "I just… I don't know. I was so certain I was going to die and yet… I'm alive. I don't know what happens now or where to go from here. I don't even know if I'm needed anymore."

He seemed to be concerned at her rambling, yet he listened to her even as her voice faded. "You can return with us," he said quietly. "For a small time, Rohan was your home."

"All of three days, maybe," Buffy quipped, before she sighed and her face turned serious. "I'll think about it."

"If you are concerned with your life, you may be of use to Rohan," he said, half-turning to face her. "I have need of a Marshal and I believe you to be suitable."

She grimaced as she remembered their conversation from a few days before. "Yeah," she said quietly. "You said something about that." But never did she believe that they would be discussing that, right here and right now.

"As this war is over, I have no need for a counsel, but a Marshal is one position I do need," he replied. "This may not be what you had in mind for being as you are, but—"

"You're right," she said, cutting him off suddenly. "It's not at all what I had in mind."

"You had already foreseen your death," he said, his voice dropping angrily. "Surely you will look past what has already come and gone and find yourself a new mission?"

"I never got that chance before," she said bitterly. "Seconds before I was released from my duty forever, I was dumped in your world. I didn't have a choice. If I could have said no, I would have. This isn't my world. It's yours. I was just sent here to help out a King. I did my duty and did I get thanked for it? No. I'm still here. You obviously don't need a vampire Slayer here, as there aren't any of them to slay. Not to mention, you really have no need for a Slayer as the bad guys are either dead or running, and where does that leave me? It leaves me sitting here wondering what the hell I'm going to do now!"

"There will always be evil in this world," he sighed, walking a few steps away.

"That wasn't my point," she admonished, coming up along side him. "The point is… where do I go from here? What… what purpose do I serve? Am I still a Slayer or am I just…"

"Have you ever considered the possibility that you, for once, have a chance to do something you have not yet been able to do?" Éomer asked her, turning to face her again.

"I don't know!" she cried. "How can I know? I've only been here three weeks and I was ready to give up everything…" She cut herself off as she shook her head, crossing her arms. She had no idea what she could say. She really didn't know why this conversation had turned so hostile, anyway. Someone had to be punishing her for something, because she was never this emotional in matters concerning herself. She felt her eyes close and she sighed deeply.

His hand reached out to gently cradle her face. "You have been given another life, another chance at achieving anything to your will. Do you not have the means to take it?"

"My journey ended back on that battlefield," she said, glancing up at him. "I don't know if I can do another one."

"Perhaps it is best for that decision to lie amongst those of us who hold the power to give it unto you," he said, and she felt his calloused skin smudge a tear that had trickled from the corner of her eye. "I would give you what you seek, for I know that your loyalties have saved many. I can see in your eyes that you would not abandon our people."

Her gaze softened slightly. "I'll think about it," she said, referring to his offer. She knew what being a Marshal meant, after having spent so much time amongst them. They were gifted riders who protected the many fields and plains of Rohan with Rohirrim under their command. Éomer himself was once both a Third and First Marshal and for him to offer her such a prestigious position should have brought her pride. Instead, she realized, she was confused. There was something under his offer, she thought. There was some underlying current of emotions and feelings there that she wasn't going to deny. She was a long way from home. He was offering her so much and it had started with the single touch. She felt his hand move from her cheek, but her own reached up to intercept it. "Don't go."

He gazed at her in surprise. "Have you something else on your mind?"

"I know I said that I couldn't love you," she said, refusing to break her gaze, "but it doesn't mean I don't care."

"I have little use for your explanations, now," he said, and she saw that her words before the battle indeed had a negative effect on him. His eyes were closed and he grimaced. "It may comfort you to hear your words, but your words have little comfort for me."

"Maybe this'll help," she said, swallowing hard. "I lied to you."

His brow furrowed as he gazed at her. "I do not know what you speak of," he said uncertainly.

"You don't know how much I don't want to be alone," she said quietly. "I've been alone for as long as I can remember, even if I'm with someone. The point is, I know what it's like to lead and I've just had a painful lesson in following." She touched her healing hand and winced. "But I can't be a Slayer where there's nothing to Slay. All that's left is me."

"Why do you think that I care for you?" he asked as they walked down towards the celebration below. "I know that you care for this world and would protect it with your very life. You have proven this yet again. Would you not be able to care for one as much as you care for the rest?"

"Someday," she said with a shrug, half-smiling. "Maybe… give me time."

But as she started to move away, she felt herself drawn into doing something she had wanted to do for quite some time. She paused as she heard his footsteps fade away. Smiling, she continued onwards, thinking that what she had wanted was inane, even ludicrous. Her thoughts changed less than a moment later. She felt her body being spun around and then she found a set of urgent lips upon her own. And then she gave up her resolve.

A moment later, he had pulled back as she stood there, unable to speak. She had been so close to closing the door, but somehow, he had found his way inside. He was a devious one. She was going to have to watch out for that.

It took less than thirty seconds for her to admit that watching him leave was not something she wanted to happen. She twisted one of her arms around his neck and brought his face to hers. At last, when they had separated, she felt her own smile widen in the darkness. "That's a start," she joked, trying to keep the surprise from her voice.

"It was something that I needed to know," he said, bowing his head to her again.

"Did you get what you needed?" she smirked.

He gave her a long look before turning and disappearing into the night.

Éomer returned to his own encampment, finding more than half of his men keeled over from the heavy effects of alcohol. His spirits felt surprisingly light.

He was going to have to thank his sister for his conscience someday. She had been the one to say that his feelings were going to betray his cold demeanor in the end. Indeed, they appeared to have done so already. He had found out everything he needed to know in their embrace. When she had been in his arms, he had felt the strangest sense of calm, although he had yet to pursue and court any women. There were many who would benefit from the love a King could bestow, but none like Buffy, he realized.

She wasn't his to love and admire, he thought, dropping down in front of the fire and gazing at it, the light reflecting in his eyes. But perhaps one day she would be.

Buffy made her way solemnly back to her tent, lost in thought. She wasn't sure what had just happened. But, for some reason, she didn't want that feeling to go away. It was the feeling of being wanted for something other than killing, maiming and torture. It was the first time in a long time that she felt like a woman and not just a slayer.

In a way, he had saved her life again.

She fell asleep. In her dreams, there was a dashing man promising to stand beside her. In her mind, though, the woman grieved, for she had lost much in her lifetime and those she had loved had suffered gruesome deaths. She had seen them all come apart and was unwilling to let the man even come close, but, in the end, her fears drove her to madness. As the dream drifted off, there was a song. It was a song of promise, of a rebirth, a second chance at a life she never really had. She was still the greatest feminine warrior the world had ever seen… but the Slayer was no longer needed.

And the woman left behind was no longer alone.

x-x-x

In the next chapter, two little Hobbits awaken to find that they were victorious in every possible way. And two women begin to realize the potential of finally opening up their hearts.


	23. With Miles to Go

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own "The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Wow. After six months of fixing this story… it has passed its one-year anniversary. That gives us some pride. We have spent a lot of toil and tears on this story. And we begin to think of it as our child the way it has been nurtured all of these months… now it is finally coming to an end. Following this part is another two-part and the last two-part. We do hope you enjoy!

_Sparky24 – I think that Buffy would have learned from her past mistakes, even if she doesn't consider them to be "big" mistakes. After all, she was given a direction to go. She has many options, more of which will open to her in this next chapter. She will just have to pick one and run with it. She's growing up after what she's been through, which has basically been three weeks of a whirlwind adventure in death and destruction. Oh, and she does meet Frodo in this chapter… that was fun to write._

_Sam – hello! Thank you for your compliments! I currently do not post this story elsewhere, and neither does Katrina. However, if you want the chapter as I post it, we would forward it along._

_Pamie884 – I figured that it was time. I could personally have held it off another two or three chapters, but Katrina said 'enough already!'. I hope the mood continues, because knowing Buffy, she's a little… well, difficult to manage in these kinds of situations._

_Lorency__ – Oh, thank you! Well, yes… I think things between them have changed a bit now. The only problem is… Buffy tends to run from the good things. This is perhaps the reason why some of the things that have to occur actually happen. In the end, though, I promise the good. They have yet to really "know", but they will learn._

_Ringo's__ Wildrose – Yeah, well, everything cannot be so perfect for my favorite couple now, can it? This chapter uses two poetic aspects. The title is from a Robert Frost poem, and the poem within is one of my favorites as well. After reading many, many poems in my lifetime, we are finally able to put them to good use! Thank you for your comments. _

_Russa__ – Buffy does seem to have many brilliant adventures, doesn't she? This one has yet to come to a close though… there is still so much yet to tell… thank you!_

_Evilelvengoddess__ – Unfortunately, she will not see her Sunnydale friends again… but she will get a sign to know that they are "all right"._

_Canadian __Coco__ Chick – Of course… and many thanks to you as well!_

_Surfin__-stoner – Well, I am, of course, biased to Éowyn/Faramir as they are my signature pairing in almost EVERYTHING I have ever written, but shhh… Buffy Summers is just such a fun character to teach myself to write that, well… it gets fun after a while, ne? Thank you ever so much for coming out of your little hole!_

_Vampy__ the __Chosen__ One – well, thank you my dear! Both of us thank you for your compliments. The story has taken one of those "journey's end" turns, hasn't it? Well, I can be the one to say the end has yet to come…_

Chapter Summary: Living again may be the hardest thing to do, but it isn't something they do alone… and let the celebration begin!

Chapter Warning: After the mushiness in the previous chapter, this chapter basically covers the after-effects of what is truly going on. It does center around my two female leads but it does introduce two _new _Hobbits into the story. And, what fun is a chapter without a battle? Oh, and a tiny note to all of you students getting your butts kicked by exams and finals… hang in there! It's almost over! One final note, there is a poem used here by DH Lawrence called "Self Pity". It is one of the most beautiful poems I have ever come across… and it totally fit the theme of the chapter. Lastly, the title comes from the Robert Frost poem "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening", or at least the 'miles to go' part is.

x-x-x

**Chapter 23**

**With Miles to Go**

_By Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

The first thing Buffy heard one morning was the sound of laughter. It was like déjà vu all over again.

Her body was stiff from lying in the bed too long. It was far too comfortable to be some sort of triage, but it worked wonders for her attitude. There was a loud burst of laughter right outside of her tent when a woman ducked inside, stifling her laughter.

Buffy watched through her eyelids as the woman walked over to the small table, replacing the clay water pitcher with one she held in her hand. She was about to turn away when Buffy decided to give herself away, groaning and rolling over for show. The woman turned and waited until the young woman had risen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning," she said, setting the empty pitcher aside and walking over to Buffy, who glanced up at her with sleep-narrowed eyes. She waited for Buffy to sufficiently stretch and yawn before suddenly taking her hand. Buffy cut off mid-yawn as the woman's cold fingers took hers. "Come with me."

The next thing Buffy knew, she was being yanked out of bed by force. Well, she could have put up more of a fight, but wasn't the whole point of recovering in a bed to relax her guard down? In any case, she let the woman pull her from tent to tent until she at last found a vacant one.

"In," she said, pushing Buffy in front of what looked like a large wooden bucket. Her eyes widened when she saw the six inches of water and what looked like plants floating on top of it.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked quietly.

The woman gave her a stern look. "No excuses," she said, pointing her bony finger towards the basin again. "In."

Buffy decided to do as she was told, for once. She carefully shed her white dressing gown and stepped gingerly into the warm water. She was half-relieved. She had expected it to be icy cold.

What turned out to be icy cold were the woman's hands as she carefully stripped away the bandages. Once they were clear, her icy fingertips ran over the smooth skin, marred only by a remnant of the deep wound that had been placed there only days before.

"You have been given a gift, child," she said quietly, watching as Buffy sank into the warm water. "Do not take it lightly."

"I never have," Buffy said, closing her eyes and stretching out her legs a bit. This was rather comfortable. The woman busied herself with gathering a few things before handing Buffy a coarse cloth and a chipped bar of soap. Buffy needn't ask what she had to do with it and quickly began scrubbing.

Her skin was more bruised than she thought. Her entire right hip was still a dark shade of a purplish-blue. And despite the fact her spearing was healing nicely, the area around the place where the sword had penetrated her was nearly black with tissue scar. No wonder she'd been out for so many days, she thought ironically, carefully cleaning her wound.

A small while later, she was being led into another tent, wrapped in a thick blanket that smelled suspiciously of horse. She let the women attend to her, replacing bandages and dressing her in something they saw fit for a woman to walk around in. After what seemed like forever, she felt fingers plunging into her hair, twisting and pulling it tightly from her face.

"Okay, stop," she said, sliding out from her stool. She felt her legs protest the movement yet ignored it. She had been poked, prodded, stripped and plunged into both warm and cold water that morning. She had just about reached her limits of pampering. She was thanking her lucky stars that she'd ignored the sentiments of a spa treatment. If it was anything like this, she was going to pass it up.

"If you would rather one of the Elves do it," the woman offered, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"How about not?" Buffy said glumly, turning around and carefully pulling her own hair, now only slightly damp, away from her face. Once it was up and not about to topple, she turned to look at the woman. "Does this pass inspection?"

The woman nodded slowly, her stern eyes surveying her. "She appears to be well again, Ioreth," she said to the older woman, who smiled gently at the blonde, who was still tugging at the hem of her gown.

"She looks like an angel," the older woman said with a wistful sigh. This stopped Buffy dead in her tracks from tugging at yet another gown they'd figured would be 'proper' for her. She slowly looked up as the older woman shrugged. "It would only figure she does not belong with us."

"Are you a human being or not?" Buffy asked sarcastically, but Ioreth didn't seem to pick up on it. Instead, she held the flap to the tent open.

Outside of the tent was glorious sunshine. Most of the men were far into the fields, once again celebrating their victory. The closer she got, the more wrinkled her nose got. It seemed that they didn't know how to take a bath even when there were no battles to fight.

"Look at you," a voice said from behind her. Buffy whirled around to see Gandalf approaching her, looking mildly surprised. "I barely recognized you without your armory."

"Very funny," she said dryly, looking around.

"Come," he said, touching her elbow lightly. She followed him through the throngs of men, some of who tipped their mugs and called out cries of welcome. She waved and occasionally said 'hello', but she tended to avoid them.

Once she was able to breathe freely through her nose, she let out a long breath and began frolicking a bit in the longer grasses. It felt wonderful to be out of that bed and her muscles were enjoying the exertion. She had been bedridden far too long, she realized. When she saw Gandalf looking pensively at her, she stopped moving around. "What?" she asked, her arms dropping to her sides.

"You remind me of the youth," he said kindly, tilting his head as he considered her. "For a moment, I had forgotten how young you are."

"I'm not _that _young," she said, quickly straightening her back and forcing her face into a serious expression.

"If anyone should be arguing that, it will be me," he said sternly. "I look good for my age. I just realized that for someone of great wisdom, you have many years left ahead of you." He paused a moment, considering his next words carefully. "There are many things that you could choose to be, now that Sauron and the one Ring have been destroyed. I know that King Éomer has offered you a position as a Captain in his Rohirrim. It is a high honor indeed for a shieldmaiden to get such a role, I understand."

Buffy recalled the memory of the night before and felt her lips twist into an ironic smile. "It would be nice," she admitted. "I mean, I'd get to fight. I'd get to lead. I'd be doing all of things I'd like to do as a Slayer, but…"

"You have been offered a second chance at life, Buffy," he said quietly, his gaze looking beyond her and beyond the Fields. "Or perhaps for even you, a fifth or sixth chance. For whatever reasons they have allowed you to remain with us, a warrior is not someone they have chosen. I can show you a great many things, but my time here is ending." His eyes looked wistfully at the bright sun above their heads. "I have done what I have been sent here to do and now all that remains for me is the choice to do what I must."

A sudden breeze swept through the fields and a hawk was displaced in the tree near them. Buffy watched as it took flight, finally disappearing into the horizon.

"You have your life before you, and many options that will be presented," Gandalf said, turning back to smile at her. "Your life as a warrior would be a solitary one. There are many friends amongst Rohan who would appreciate your return to their country as it was you who chose to attend to them in the first place. They would think of it a high honor for you to return. And," he added, a slight twist to his lips, "one the King may very well appreciate in times to come."

"Yeah," she said slowly, her eyes searching out the vast crowd below them, "about that…"

"You could always choose a life as one you have never had," Gandalf continued, watching as she continued to look about the men. "You could choose to travel the lands and see for yourself Arda that I myself have called home for many years. There is always the option of settling down and choosing a husband and starting a family as well. I know from your life that you never had that chance, even when it was so desperately close."

Her eyes suddenly turned to regard the Wizard sharply. "Exactly how long have you been spying on my life?" she asked curiously. "Was it anywhere like three or four years?"

"I only saw enough to understand that if anyone needed another option, it would be you," Gandalf replied.

"But I don't know anything else," she said vaguely. The Wizard looked pleasantly intrigued by her answer. "I mean, I'm the Slayer. That's what I've done for as long as I can remember. I kill things for a living. That's me, a natural born killer with a destiny to kill and… why am I explaining myself to you?"

"I am just telling you," Gandalf continued, watching as she turned back to gaze at the men, "if you were to ever have a second chance at a life of your choosing, now would be the perfect time to select one."

Her eyes continued until they settled on the target she had been searching for. Pressing her lips together, she nodded.

Gandalf followed her line of vision and found his gaze softening. "He is a noble man," Gandalf said gently. "He would be worthy of your love."

Buffy, knowing she'd been caught, glanced away. "He's a King," she said, lifting one shoulder in response. "And I'm just—"

"You are only a close friend to Rohan," Gandalf said, a hint of laughter in his voice, "his confidant and his advisor. Most of all, you are a woman who has survived certain death fighting for a country that is fighting to claim you as one of them."

Buffy turned the words over in her mind as she glanced back over the sea of faces until she found his again. "I shall die as one of them," she said at last, blinking up at the Wizard, who was still staring at the young King across the many bodies separating them.

"You have many years to go before your time passes," Gandalf said, finally gazing at her once again. "He is not a complicated man, not like the men you have known in your lifetime. He is a simple man bearing a great responsibility he never wanted. He will need his strongest advisor and I have taught you what you needed to know."

She almost laughed at that. What had he taught her? But before she could open her mouth to answer, she suddenly understood. "Is this what it was like when you first came?" she asked, frowning slightly. "Were you dumped unceremoniously, I might add, in a new world with not a lot of knowledge on what it was?"

"As I have said, I look good for my age," Gandalf replied, his face taking on a serious hue. "I have seen that he cares for you a great deal more than he cares to admit. I can see in your eyes that you feel for him, although you may not trust your heart. Your heart is what sets you apart from these people. It keeps you alive, even when all of your hopes are turned to death. You wanted life. You have your life now, before your eyes. In a few weeks time we will return to Minas Tirith for the return of the king. Perhaps at that time, your mind will have been made up." His face softened again at the look on her own. "I will show you all I can in that time, Merilin. You have become a good student. But you will come to learn that it will not take you centuries to find your place. It took you only a week to find yours. Whether you will care to admit it or not, you are now of Rohan. You will see it 'ere the end."

Turning, he walked away, leaving her in the solitude of her own thoughts. As she continued to walk into the longer grasses, she felt as though her mind was freeing itself. He had told her that they could travel together to see the world. She knew he was an old man whose time was nearly up, but the prospect of traveling when she hadn't been able to on Earth was, well, tempting. Then again, there was the thought of finally having a family and settling down for marriage. The truth was, she couldn't see herself with small kids running around. But, oddly enough, she could see a husband.

x-x-x

Faramir had been given word at his office that the lady Éowyn had fallen ill again. Of this, his heart was grieved as he had little time to see her. He was also guilty over his growing feelings for the icy maiden, and felt foolish that he hadn't spoken of their nature sooner. His feelings of remorse intensified at discovering that she hadn't left her room in days, since the news of her brother's survival had been brought to her. Faramir had hand-delivered the news of this Merilin, which seemed to cheer Éowyn immensely, but her dark eyes were troubled and sad as she had looked away. Something was bothering her conscious and, in a typical male form, he hadn't bothered to find out. He cursed his own stupidity and hoped that in time Éowyn would forgive him.

It had been days since their victory at the hands of Sauron had been complete. He had been released from the Houses of Healing, only to come into an office left in ruin by his father. At the summoning of the few aides he had remaining, he began to prepare for a great coming, one that was sure to be beautiful and magnificent and praised beyond praise. It had far too much to live up to.

His one lingering thought was of Éowyn, locked away in her garden, watching as the world began to heal as her own thoughts turned to frost. She had been so close to opening herself up to him, Faramir thought. He had to reach her.

He prepared a message and had an errand-keeper send it to her.

Éowyn was waiting in the gardens when the child handed her a single stem of an old white flower along with a small scroll. Accepting this package with a smile of gratitude, Éowyn turned and read the scroll while observing the flower.

It was true that her solitude was causing her to revert back to her old pensive self. She missed the companionship of the Steward but fully understood that his city needed him. Minas Tirith had great steps to go to achieve what few Kings had been able to create it as. And yet, she thought as she unrolled the scroll, she felt strangely alone. Merilin had survived the final battle and for this, she felt as though everything had been brought to the light. Buffy was alive. Her brother was alive. Both had sent for her to come to them in the fields, but Éowyn felt strangely drawn to where she was.

Perhaps it was because she was far from a battle that had nearly killed her.

Or perhaps it was because of the words of a kind man who had shown her nothing but compassion. The scroll was scripted beautifully and her pale fingertips traced the well-lined words. _I never saw such a wild thing feel sorry for itself, _she read. _A small bird will drop dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself._

The scroll continued on to attempt to cheer her with words coming from the battlefield, but her eyes were continuously drawn to the top.

These words were like an addiction she would soon never cure herself from, she thought as she rose, setting the scroll aside with the limp, dying blossom. Moving to the edge of the garden, she felt a small smile grace her features as she stared at the city below. They were both growing stronger, she thought, waiting for the cold sunlight to touch her face. It never did, but neither did the smile leave her as she continued to see a new world slowly coming back together.

In the city below, Faramir finished his duties and quickly made for the Houses of Healing. He had one last duty to see to, he thought firmly as he marched through the streets. Many smiled and gave warm shouts of welcome which he wholly returned, but his thoughts were foremost on the Shieldmaiden of Rohan, waiting for him a few levels above.

x-x-x

It was nearly sundown when Buffy returned to the encampment. The mood had once again turned to a group of men who had had far too much to drink. She carefully weaved in and out of the smaller groups but found herself facing two Hobbits. When they saw who was towering over them, they beamed up at her.

"We were just sitting down for supper," Merry said. "Will you join us?"

Buffy stomach lurched at the prospect of food. After setting off that morning, she'd walked and paced around the river's bed for hours that afternoon before making her way back. "Okay," she said, following the two into a smaller tent. At least she was far away from all of the drunken men.

"Hope you don't mind," Pippin said, offering her a plate of sausages and potatoes. His opposite hand held a pipe, which he was gesturing about with.

"Oh, go ahead," she said, waving her hand. "I'm used to the smoke." Well, after Spike, she thought dryly, she was. If Middle-earth had cured her of all of her second-hand smoke intake, well… a little pipe weed wasn't going to kill her.

They ate heartily until they were interrupted by Gimli, who stomped his way into the tent, a large mug swinging dangerously from one hand. "They are playing drinking games!" he announced to the two Hobbits, who exchanged a quick laugh before turning to regard the Dwarf. He seemed to straighten somewhat when he saw Buffy's somewhat bemused expression. "Have you ever played a drinking game, lass?" he asked her with a distinct hiccup. "They are even asking the Elves to have a go at it!"

The thought of Legolas or those Elvish twins drinking anything other than the finest of wines and water made her smirk. "Oh, this is something I have to see," she said, getting to her feet. Turning, she grinned at the two Hobbits. "Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime, my lady," Pippin called after her.

Buffy followed Gimli to where a table laden with mugs had been erected. There were a long line of men tipping the ale rather heavily, she thought, waving a hand back and forth in front of her nose. When she swung her gaze around, she saw Éomer standing there, near Aragorn and the Prince of Dol Amroth, looking rather bemused. For a second, their eyes met. She quickly blinked and looked away just as Gimli choked out, clapping his hands together, "Who's next?"

"Count me out," Buffy said quickly, clapping him on the shoulder and moving through the crowd. Although she made to move away, she couldn't help but smile when Legolas was led forward, looking solemn as usual.

"It is only ale, is it not?" he asked in his fair tone. Buffy stopped to watch him as he lifted a mug to sniff at it. She couldn't help but smile at Gimli's sudden entry into the contest as he all but leapt onto the table next to the Elf. The other men collected their brews and moved away as one of the younger men stepped forward with two fresh pints.

"At last," a voice murmured quietly at her elbow, "the Dwarf would have a chance to upset the Elf."

"Do you think he stands a chance?" she asked, grinning behind her at Aragorn. "Those Elves are pretty darned spry."

They watched in silent amusement as they both lifted the tankards and began gulping down, or rather, in Legolas' case, taking dainty slurps.

"I mean, I could do better than that," she admitted, gesturing as Gimli happily accepted a second while Legolas made a disgusted face, turning his azure eyes down to scowl at the mug he was drinking from.

"Why did you not enter such a contest?" Aragorn asked as they continued to move behind the crowds.

"Only because I have nothing to prove to anyone," she said with a faint smile. "I mean, you know I can run and swing a sword and I bet you know how accurate I can hit."

"Oh, that we do know," Aragorn said, laughing slightly as they paused to watch Legolas set down his first mug as Gimli let out a loud belch and wiped his beard on his sleeve before continuing to gulp happily away. "Here," he said, pausing at a second table and lifting a newly-poured mug into his hands. "For you."

Buffy took it, gazing at him suspiciously. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"That is not the point," Aragorn said, gently turning her around to point out the fact that nearly everyone was laughing and mocking the Elf and the Dwarf now. "Those two races have been at odds for many years and yet they sit together on this very night debating on which one can hold their liquor better."

"My money is still on the Elf," Buffy said stubbornly, yet she couldn't help but agree. Maybe there were better things than fighting battle after battle. All she had done since arriving in this place was fight battles, it seemed. "You're right," she admitted. "I should be enjoying myself more."

"There are many men who would lucky to have you in such company," Aragorn agreed.

She turned to glare at him. "Don't you start on me either," she warned, wagging her finger at him.

"The ale must have such effects on you that the moment you breathe it in, it affects your mind," Aragorn teased.

She debated on whether or not to dump the whole tankard on him, but her decision was abated when a loud thud and the sound of cheering distracted her. Moving forward, they both saw that Gimli had passed out cleanly onto the ground as Legolas looked around, his gaze finally settling on her. "I win," he said, a hint of triumph in his voice.

Buffy turned and tapped Aragorn on the shoulder. "Told you," she said, twisting her way back through the crowds as yet another contest was being debated. As she moved away, she became aware that she was being followed. She ditched the ale at the first available table. She still wasn't in the mood to drink, despite Aragorn's insistence that this was all one big happy party.

"To sneak off would not bode well," Éomer's voice came, sudden and deep, from behind her.

She started laughing as she turned around. "Who is sneaking off?" she asked, a teasing grin on her face. "Your men would be disappointed if they knew their King wasn't there to cheer them on."

"It is only a game," he said, moving a bit closer to her. She felt her body react strangely despite her wishes that she should hold herself together and continue to add the distance between them. That obviously was her mind talking, because her heart had started to beat rather rhythmically in her chest. Or, at least, this was the first time she'd heard it. Maybe Aragorn was right and she was intoxicated from inhaling the fumes from the ale.

"What would you call this?" she heard her voice asking. "Is this just some kind of game?"

At least her heart had stopped pounding. She saw the look on his face change to one of confusion before he straightened, halting his progress. "Nay," he said at last, his dark eyes taking her in, "but is this what you see it as?"

"No," she admitted. Now she felt stupid. Everyone was telling her that this man actually cared about her as a woman and not as some prized fighter and she was accusing him of playing games. "I just had to be sure."

It was wrong. She knew it. But she couldn't help it. She'd only been here a short period of time and she knew what it was like to be distanced from people who cared about her and loved her. She wanted a bit of that back, which was probably what this was…, right? Or was it something else entirely?

He was looking lost again. He obviously was new at this, she thought. Taking a brave step forward, she smiled up at him. "Don't look so surprised," she said quietly. Raising his gaze to meet hers, she felt that familiar shiver again slipping down her spine. The distance seemed to close between them and soon she felt all resolve go out whatever window she was hiding behind. It was only when they heard the sound of an explosion did the world revolve again.

"Will you walk with me?" he asked. She watched as he held out his hand to her and she felt her own hand take his, grasping his fingers a little harder than necessary.

"O… Okay," she said, and they set off, walking away from the commotion and back towards the tents.

"I have sent word to Éowyn of your recovery," he said after a few moments. She turned to look at him in the darkness, her hazel eyes reflecting the distant light. "I know she will be pleased to hear of it. I do not know how she must have felt with her people leaving her in the care of an ill steward and going back to battle."

"She was fine with it when I asked her," Buffy said.

"You asked her of it?" he asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "See, where I come from, it's polite to ask people whether they mind being left behind or else getting thrown out." Her face took on a very bitter look, yet it quickly dissipated.

"There is something you are not telling me," he said, reading her face carefully.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked with a sigh, and then turned to look at him. "I've been stabbed in the back before by people I thought I could trust. I've saved their lives countless times and when it mattered, when it _really _mattered, they told me to leave."

"Do you fear that this fate will be what becomes of you?" he asked, feeling her release his hand and move away into the darkness.

"I'm not afraid of a great many things," she admitted after a moment, her eyes taking in the many stars glistening above. "I'm not scared of death, or of being hurt or of suffering. I am scared of watching my friends die. I fear their pain and not my own."

"You have not overcome your own fear," he said from behind her. "You only show that you put the cares of others before your own."

"I don't want it to happen again," she said. "I've been through this before. I can't do this again. Even if this is my last chance, which I know it likely is… it's just too much."

"I will not pretend to make promises that I will not be likely to keep in the future," he said, coming up behind her, "but I will promise that I will never turn against you as those you claim have done. It is far too cruel a method of attrition, and you are not deserving of such."

That was something he could promise, she thought wryly. He could attack her now and drive her through a few dozen times and it still wouldn't hurt as much as losing her friends in that one moment had hurt. "I believe you," she said, turning around to face him.

He seemed to like that answer as they eyed one another in the darkness for a moment. Finally, he held out his arm again. "Come," he said, "I will escort you back to your tent."

"I don't need an escort," she said sharply, taking a step away from him. Seeing the look on his face, she realized quickly that his feelings had been hurt. Forcing a smile on her face, she realized that he had no idea how to court and though she was hardly an expert, the knowledge that she had just insulted his gentlemanly behavior was… something she never would have expected to deal with here. Then again, she thought to herself as she shrugged and lifted an arm to signal him to move forward and followed behind him. They had shared more than one little embrace now, she thought with a slight blush creeping up her neck. She would gladly give something for a few more of those, she thought, bringing her fingers to her lips and smiling ruefully. Okay, so the thought of being attractive as a female was starting to appeal to her a little more than she would have expected. But, then again, why not? She was a hottie, or so she had been told by nearly every male she had ever had a romantic tryst with. Even Riley had complimented her once or twice. Despite the fact she was bruised, battered, had been driven through, stabbed and pierced with poisoned arrows, she was still pretty. That thought gave her pride.

They continued to walk, drawing the attention of more than a few people. Gandalf, for one, looked somewhat bemused at this. Buffy loved nothing more than the prospect of running over, relieving him of his staff, and smashing it across that smug smile of his. Rolling her eyes comically, she turned to see that, once again, she had presented herself as the center of attention. As someone who had been so clearly in the center of demonic attention, to be standing here in the middle of hundreds, if not thousands of prying eyes with a King in a rather compromising position with his arm holding hers just like so… well… she was feeling sorely tempted to kick a lot of asses in that moment. And yet, she thought to herself, these people had been fighting for most of their lives in the world of darkness. It was about time they saw something they could smile about, even if it was just a King with his counsel, walking rather close together as though sharing some inane secret.

Smiling, she tugged his arm and turned him around so that his back was facing his people. "It appears that you are under your public's eye," she told him, a glint sparkling in her eye.

His hand reached up to press his hand over that wry smile and she found herself fighting against the move. It was far too bold for a man so unaccustomed to dating. She would have thought his dream date would have been a buggy ride through the countryside. But, if he wanted to play rough, that was how she enjoyed it the most, she thought, smirking as his hand was wiped away with a swipe from her own arm. "Was that your polite way of shutting me up?" she asked, watching his eyes narrow before charging on, "Because it wasn't very—"

Being cut off wasn't the most polite thing ever, she thought as she found herself swept into another embrace that sent her mind spinning again. But, of all the ways to be interrupted, this was far from the worst. And the sounds of cheering, laughing and voices hooting in the background were only slightly distracting.

x-x-x

There was a great roar from the fields the next day. Buffy found herself lounging in her tent, relaxing and sleeping in intermittent times. She found it easy to sleep when it was warm, the wind was carrying with it the scents of relaxing lavender and chamomile and the sun was kept well-hidden behind the many trees around the tents. She opened one eye at the sound and quickly went to her feet. She was not the only one peering from underneath the flap of their tent.

There were two figures she could see, moving with Gandalf towards the great throne. Wrapping her cloak about her, she stepped away from the trees and crept over to where two Hobbits were being hailed. She felt a smile grace her features as the men praised them.

So, at last, she thought, wandering amidst the eager soldiers. These must be the two lost little Hobbits, the one their suicide mission was supposed to help. Sam and Frodo, she thought they had been named. Before she could speak, however, there was more praising and Aragorn, in his true fashion, began singing. And he kept singing. At last, when she saw the sun dip far below the trees to the west, she felt a yawn come but smothered it. Before she could break away from the group, however, which meant that after nearly six hours of standing and listening to Aragorn sing of a story, she found herself being moved backwards. She had been invited to the main tent, Ioreth told her solemnly. The King of Rohan wished for her to be there.

It was a great excuse, she thought to herself.

But the song and tale had her wrapped up in a bit of excitement of two young Hobbits daring to believe that they were more than just the smallest creatures. Every single person, no matter how small, could change the world. And, at last, when these two were finally introduced to her, she found herself smiling. "Hi," she said, reaching out her hand. Both Samwise and Frodo looked startled, but Sam quickly came forward to take her hand.

"Why, hello there Miss!" he said, smiling widely up at her.

"I'm Buffy," she said, returning the smile and glancing over at Frodo. "And I bet you're Frodo, right? And you're Sam?"

They both nodded. At that time, Gandalf came to usher them into seats and gave her a long-suffering look, as though she had held up dinner. The Prince, the Rohirric King and Aragorn were the last to enter and behind them were two Halflings dressed in their suited armor for the duration of the meal. She smiled wistfully at the friendship easily shared between the four Hobbits and longed for that companionship again. Oh, she'd had it with Willow and Xander forever, and it was likely she would never feel anything of the sorts again. Her smile faltered as she looked away, but not before the King of Rohan caught her sad expression and resigned himself to attempt to talk her from her reverie. However, before he could begin, Gandalf politely interjected and the meal was served.

It really was a delicious dinner, Buffy thought as she ate from her plate, laughing easily at the tales told and watching the companions speak of such great things. Aragorn was easily settling into his role as a King. Éomer was far more settled than Aragorn and although his thoughts didn't turn far from horses, Rohan or battle, he was inclined to join the conversation, his clear tones ringing and prominent. Buffy marveled how she could pick his voice from an entire crowd of them and sighed, dropping her chin upon her fist and just enjoying the company for once. She wasn't about to be shipped off to war, so this was about as peaceful as it was going to get, to start, she thought dryly.

Soon the others began drifting away. Gimli and Legolas, who had joined them for their dinner, were amongst the first to leave. Buffy found herself staring after the Elf without a trace of regret and soon found herself rethinking about the lack of companionship in this world. She had had it all along. She had just been searching for it in all the wrong places.

The Captains of Rohan remained long after with their King to arrange a departing time. It was decided that the King was to return to Edoras soon after their journey to Minas Tirith because they had much to do for Rohan. Buffy found herself falling asleep on her fist, but was gently pushed awake by Elfhelm. She glared at the older Marshal as he swept off into the darkness. Éomer was the last left behind and for this, she felt somewhat awkward. But he just rose and nodded to her before beginning to depart. Finally finding her voice, she called out for him and soon joined him in the cool darkness.

It was almost easy to talk to someone who didn't know her entire past. She was willing to share herself though. She had been willing to all along. These people couldn't judge her after the mess they had put themselves in. She was going to do it slowly, though. She trusted this King as she had found herself oddly attracted to him and was willing to let him see her for who she truly was.

It was only when the deep twilight was settling in did she see the two young Hobbits returning to the bank of tents. She called out to them and they turned to her.

She was surprised when Samwise admitted that Gandalf had told them about her. "He knows that you have things to hold to yourself," he said quietly, gesturing. "It was only fair we know who you were."

"You don't know everything," she said darkly, but could easily forgive Gandalf for wanting to protect her. But she was slightly annoyed by the fact that the old Wizard couldn't see that she was easily capable of protecting herself. Even as they bid goodnight, she called them back. "I know your story has been told again and again and _again_, but I would really like to hear it from the two of you."

They both looked amazed at her request. Gandalf had said that she was a being capable of a great many things and was very powerful. She wasn't powerful in ethereality like the Elves, but she was powerful enough by her own right.

"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," she offered, a slight smile on her face. The thought of teaching these Halflings about vampires and other forces of darkness wasn't at all appealing, but hearing of a journey of a life-and-death struggle for something other than her own soul was extremely appealing. Still, they remained silent. "Look, I know something about being heroes. We all appreciate what you did out there. But I've seen things you can't begin to imagine, just like I know you've seen things I won't ever know about. What you did out there… I don't think you realize… I've seen great minds destroyed by darkness… and knowing that you survived… well…"

"Speak no more," Frodo said, lifting up his hand. Buffy saw that his hand only had four remaining fingers and felt her lips twist ironically. "I would be happy to tell you our story. Sam here can help, as he was there by my side."

Buffy blinked as she glanced at Sam's open face. "I guess we have more in common than I thought," she managed to get out.

Exchanging another look, Frodo and Sam led Buffy near the trees overlooking the distant river. Above them, the stars were bright and shining, especially the star that had been described to her as being one of the two Simarils from the First Age. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for a night to tell a story. She found herself leaning against a tree, shaking off any feeling of sleep as they began to try and find the right words.

And, at last, they began to tell their story.

x-x-x

In the next chapter, one King prepares to retake his throne, while another prepares the long road home.

I just had to add this little note… I am debating a break after this current chapter because I am about to take a small trip for a wedding soon, but the wedding is in Spain. I know I will not have internet access, so I won't bother bringing a disc or anything along, but I do know that with the rest of the traveling involved, including a family reunion, it will be several weeks, up to a month.


	24. A Royal Welcome, Part I

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Thank you ever so much for your patience in the past four weeks. My time was well spent with my friends and family. As for the remainder of this story, I will hopefully have it posted by summer's end.

_Jumping-jo - Well, she is about to get a few more choices that might cloud her judgment of being able to freely have the life she wants. In other words, no choice is ever easy._

_Evilelvengoddess - well, we both thank you. I only hope the end of the story meets with your expectations!_

_Renna - A great time was had by all! I tried to time it so that I wouldn't take a month to update, because sometimes real life does interfere with the best of intentions. However, three weeks wasn't too terribly bad. Thank you for your review!_

_lil-saturn-goddess - Thank you._

_Sukera - well, thank you!_

_Sparky24 - Buffy is going to have even more choices presented to her in this chapter. Basically, this all boils down to facing what the potentials were forced to face when given the chance to change their destiny. I found it a fitting tribute, really. Eowyn was technically stuck within the Houses of Healing in the books and I wanted to keep it at that. However, things are starting to change. Spring is most definitely in the air. As for the interaction between Frodo and Buffy,  
there was a substantial piece removed to be placed into this chapter to give it some length. All in all, destinies are about to be made._

_Lorency - You did not have to wait a month. I was only gone for approximately five days total. And a grand day and a half for the reunion. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be, with children and all. A great time was had by all is all I can say! _

_FairyQuilan - Well, thank you for that comment. I hope you mean to say that you like her in the situations we keep dumping her into instead of the fact that we have warped her character so much you can hardly remember her true self. _

_Russa - Things returning to normal? I didn't know Middle-earth even had a normal period. I know I borrowed that scene from the extended version of the movie, but I did it to prove a point that no matter which race you are, you can all get along. Gimli was picked on because of his size, I think. Being someone short and somewhat stocky in nature, I can attest to that. I just wish that I could have used these minor characters a bit more, but that would have added complexities and when you have two writers, it can quite easily get out of hand. And yes, they are starting to realize their feelings for one another. I won't say who, because there are three couples in this chapter that will see the light at the end of the tunnel... finally. _

Chapter Summary: Aragorn returns to Minas Tirith for the Return of the King. This is part one of a two part chapter featuring the returns of two Kings to their respective lands.

Chapter Warning: This chapter does contain a bit of dialogue from the book. I chose not to do the movie version because, in my mind, it didn't do this chapter justice. As for the next part, it is mostly entirely original. Both are quite long, too, so there is your warning. This was once a single chapter spanning nearly 30 pages before the editing process began. Welcome back to Minas Tirith, for the warriors have been surely missed.

x-x-x

**Chapter 24**

**A Royal Welcome, Part I**

_By Alyson Kay and Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

"Why do you linger here, my lady?"

Éowyn turned at the sound of the voice and found herself gazing upon the Steward. True, she did not have an answer for him. Her mind could think of a hundred possibilities, but not one of them came spoken from her heart. She lifted one shoulder and turned back to gazing over the gardens.

"Will you not answer?"

"I have none," she replied softly. It was the honest truth, she felt. She really had no answer for him. "I linger because I have not been bidden to leave."

"Would you leave the city given such a choice?" Faramir asked. Éowyn could have hit him. The amusement in his voice was all too clear.

"Nay," she said, a bit more harshly than she would have liked.

"It is obvious that the lady is upset with me," Faramir said, walking behind her and coming up to her opposite side. "What must I do to let her smile again?"

He watched as her eyes closed and, he thought sadly, the frost seemed to settle in, unbreakable and unimaginably cold. "I see no joy in departing this city," she said, her tone growing in intensity as she met his eyes. He was startled by the force of her gaze. He had once seen her as a pitiable creature, one desperate for a swift death in battle to be known for glory for all times. Now he saw her as someone he found himself wanting to spend even more time with, despite his tasks as Steward. "I see no joy in anything at all."

"May I speak plainly?" he asked.

"You may," she said, averting her gaze and staring out over the city one more.

"I knew in your heart when I met you that you loved the Lord Aragorn. To see him now would bring you no joy even in his earliest hours of victory," he began quietly. "For this reason and perhaps this alone, you will not leave this city."

"I would betray my thoughts if I said there was no other," Éowyn said, her chin dipping. Faramir's brow furrowed as he studied her movements. She seemed almost bashful around him. She had hidden nothing before him when he knew her best. To see her tuck away like a wayward child made him think she was concealing something from him. "But you are correct. I was ready to die on that battlefield, to have my name known and spoken through the ages. I was ready to die for Rohan."

"You are brave and loyal to your people and that is what I respect about you," he said, reaching out and placing his hand over hers. "I do mean what I said when I sent that letter, Éowyn. I have never seen you pity yourself and in my eyes I admire you all the more for it. Please tell me that my admiration is not for me alone."

Her gaze stayed with his until he caught the slightest motion, a shake of her blonde head. Turning her fair head, she glanced back over the city. "I have sought a new destiny," she said softly. "But that was not my answer. I have found myself wanting more. I have found myself wanting…" Her voice grew too soft for him to decipher her words. She shook her head again and glanced up at him, a slight smile coming to her face. His hand reached down and lovingly brushed her cheek.

"Now that is a face any man would love to remember," he said. Her eyes closed as he moved his hand across her forehead before pressing his lips to her brow. "I will leave you to your solitude."

Even as he stepped away, he heard her voice beckon to him after a few silent moments. "Don't."

"I have my duties to see to," he said, spreading his arms as though to remind her that he had a city to rebuild.

"Do I have a place in your duties?" she asked, moving towards him. With the sunlight burning behind her, she appeared to him as though an angel walking to him from above. He stretched out his hand to catch her cool grasp. "Do I not have your thoughts?"

"Every day my thoughts turn to you," he said, cradling her cold hands within his. "Every day I wish I had the courage to say what I long to. You are a valiant lady and were you the Queen of Gondor, as I know you wish you were… I would love you still."

Her smile widened. "Have I not told you that I no longer wish to remain a shieldmaiden? I want more than a life of broken glory and constant torment. I want to see a world renewed under a new spring, a new dawn. I want to walk amongst the greatest gardens and be with the one that calms my soul. I have no desire left to lose."

"I have nothing to give to you that would speak of renown and glory," he said, reaching out to stroke her face.

"I want you," she replied. He found himself gazing at her, as though seeing her for the first time. Had she truly found him to be worthy of her adoration? He was certainly enamored with her. He had loved her from the first moment he had seen her. And now, with that inner fire that drove him to respect her further, he felt as though he were the luckiest man in Arda.

"My heart sings for those words, for I have longed to hear them," he said, a bit breathlessly as he pulled her into his warm embrace. She smiled as she tipped her head to his shoulder, feeling as though this soaring sensation within would never falter. "I love you, my White Lady. If I can do anything for you, let me. If you wish to see your brother or your companion, I will gladly see that you go to the fields."

"No," she said, pulling back. Her face was glowing, as though the frost had melted and had given way to brilliant spring dew. "I will remain here until they return. I wish not to leave."

He had no words for her. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her beneath the sunlit sky and cared not for those that could see them, for many were standing about. They saw the light surrounding them and could feel their joy and, for awhile, some of the wounds of the city were cured.

Hand-in-hand, Faramir led the glowing Éowyn to the Warden and announced that she was cured. "Thank you for your care," she said, pressing her hand to the face of the kind Warden who had spent so much time looking after her. "But with your blessings, I would wish to remain here until my people return. This House has become to me of all dwellings the most blessed."

She sighed as she spoke those words. Buffy had told her to be happy and to live, because it was the hardest thing to do. She had found her happiness. She had only been looking in the wrong place. With the burden of a great untold destiny off of her shoulders, she could breathe freely and smile. Her frost had truly melted, leaving behind one beautiful glow. She only hoped that Buffy would take her own advice and cast off the burden of such a heavy fortune. She may have been a chosen one to save the world at one time or another, but in this world, there were many who were chosen to lead. She only hoped that Buffy would have the strength to follow such wisdom. After all, Éowyn surmised, Buffy would make an excellent sister and would truly bring a great pride to the Rohirrim and the people of Rohan. They would finally get their King and with that, a Queen unafraid to take chances and risk everything there was to risk for eternal peace.

The Warden nodded and gave his word and Éowyn remained amongst the Houses of Healing. But word soon was spread around the large city of the Steward's budding romance with the White Lady of Rohan, an untamed shieldmaiden who had captured his heart as none of Númenor could. And, as she heard the whispers, a smile would grow about her face. This was how it felt, she surmised as she continued to work hither and thither, a smile broadening her face. She refused to confirm or deny the rumors, but all that worked in the Houses of Healing could already tell the change was for the better.

x-x-x

There was a long line of horses and men that stretched beyond the usual line of sight. She clasped her arms around her knees and leaned back slightly, tipping her face away from the dying sunlight. Already, the forces were returning from what Aragorn had called 'destroying Mordor utterly'. Oh, she thought to herself as she continued to watch the forces come forth, these men and their obsessive use of adjectives.

She heard a slight rustle in the grasses next to her. She turned to see a small figure peeking out curiously, the top of his curling brown hair evident even at this distance. "I don't bite," she called by way of greeting.

She seemed to have startled the Halfling as he stumbled through the high grasses and approached her. "My lady," he said, quickly bowing his head.

"Oh, don't do that," she said, waving him off. "You might as well sit down. It has the best view, Frodo."

The young Hobbit took her advice and sat on her opposite side, his eyes widening as the horses drew nearer. "Do you suppose they finished what they had wanted to do?"

"I have no doubt," Buffy said dryly. "I think that man could move mountains if he wanted to. I think that's why he's the King."

Frodo glanced down at the soft grasses swaying around them. "Maybe that is what it is like to be someone chosen."

"As someone who was chosen, I'll agree," Buffy said. She wasn't looking at him, but for a moment, he saw her grimace. "Trust me. If we want something to happen, we'll find a way to make it happen. No matter what the cost."

Frodo seemed to remain silent, her words sinking in. After a moment, he added, "I can see why they trust you."

"Oh, because they all should trust the little blonde who drops in paradise in the middle of a war," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. "No… you earn trust by stabbing the other guy with the pointy end of the sword."

"And yet no matter what happens, no matter how much they celebrate because you were the one to destroy what threatened to destroy all…" Frodo said quietly, his voice trailing off. "I did not ask for this."

"We never do," Buffy replied. "We're just picked out of the bunch, given a huge role and then when we complete it, bam… we get the second chance and we don't even know how to use it." She paused and glanced out at the riders fast approaching. "I don't even know if I want it."

"I know what I would want is peace," Frodo said, and it seemed that he had a problem getting the word out.

She gazed at him a long moment before continuing. "I'm not going to lie to you. I can't say that the world is right again and that evil is gone forever, because it never is. The good guys don't just walk off a battlefield at the end of the day, go home and everything is peachy again."

She could tell that Frodo did not understand some of her jargon. It was easy enough to see, she supposed. Frowning, she continued on. "At the end of the day, the warriors look out and they see what they did. They have to live with those consequences of taking a life. They have to live with the knowledge that instead of peace, they have war. And then they go home and try to pay for what they did, but they never can. They call it peace, but people like Freud were probably calling it madness. Oh, sure, the world has its peace. There's not a war. But inside, we're dying. We will always pay for the choices that we made, Frodo," she said, unconsciously grasping her bruised hand. Still, weeks after the final battle, it was a small scar she would likely carry for awhile before her skills allowed it to fully heal. If she were a normal woman, it would be with her the rest of her life. "We don't deserve to pay for them, but we do."

"I think I understand," he said uncertainly, reaching over to feel where the evil blade had gone into his abdomen. "I believe that this choice is one of the most painful of all."

She glanced at him and saw that he was feeling along the inside of his tunic top. She smiled in sympathy, but she refused to pity him. "Don't worry," she said comfortingly. "We'll have peace when we die. And when we have that peace, well… it's both inside and out."

Frodo nodded, indicating that he understood her. She turned her gaze and lowered herself onto the grass, pressing her hand to her eyes. She was so comfortable here that she was willing to sleep. All day long there had been men and women moving things to the boats docked at the shores of the Anduin. Now as the men returned, she knew that it was only a matter of a few days before they returned to Minas Tirith, where the remaining soldiers had been yammering on for days about the coming of the King and his coronation. She supposed it would be a cool thing to see. She hadn't exactly been conscious enough to see Princess Diana's coronation as she married Prince Charles, but that was so long ago she couldn't remember it. Now this, she thought to herself with satisfaction, is how the history book should have been written. If she'd known that these stupid wars had had so much… well, character, she would have been able to actually pass those classes.

After a long pause, he finally spoke up again. "There are many who say that you will be Queen," he said at last. It was though he was dying to ask her, but couldn't figure out how to say it. She lowered her hand and glanced at him, frowning.

"Why would they think that?" she asked curiously. It was interesting to know that the rumor hill hadn't shut down since they'd been there.

"You have spending much time with the King of Rohan," he said, giving her a calculating look as though trying to decipher her thoughts. She tilted her head and glanced at him as he spoke. He caught that look and smiled despite the glare that was sharpening her hazel eyes. "They can all see it. I cannot see why you do not. You would make a fine queen."

"Oh, right," she said slowly, hoisting herself up on her elbows. "And I suppose you heard about this from…"

"Merry," Frodo admitted.

"Merry," she deadpanned. "Oh, he is so…"

"Don't blame him for seeing what you cannot," Frodo said sternly. "He has done a great service to Rohan as have you. As he is my kin, I am indebted to your care for both him and Pippin." He paused. "Merry claimed he could see you speaking the night before the King left on his errands."

"Oh," she said darkly, remembering that night all too fondly. That conversation had been _much _too serious for her liking. While they were far from admitting their feelings, mainly because Buffy knew she had them but expressing them had become a whole lot more difficult, he had been going on and on about not coming back should something happen. She remembered telling him that nothing was going to happen because they had nothing left to kill. He had said she didn't understand. She told him she understood perfectly. It hadn't been a very romantic evening, she thought dryly. She was trying to figure out why Merry could have seen something that anyone with half a brain would clearly see as an argument between a King and his so-called counsel.

"There was another time," Frodo said gently. "It was some time before that."

"At the victory dance?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. Well, duh, she thought to herself. Even an idiot with no brains could have seen that there was something between the King and his counsel. After all, he had silenced her at the most inopportune time, but in the moment, she hadn't exactly pushed him away. She admitted that part of her liked the attention, but dealing with the aftermath was far too cumbersome to worry about. She preferred her silent role in sitting on the sidelines.

"Well, yes…"

"And…?"

Frodo felt his eyes narrow as he surveyed the woman. She was definitely observant, this one. "Gandalf may have said something."

"I knew it."

She was observant. It was quite interesting to watch the emotions cross her face. "He seems to think you would make an excellent Queen. This is coming from the Wizard who said that I alone could carry a great Ring of power across the—"

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, brushing the hair from her eyes. "He's a meddler and you know it."

"That is true," Frodo admitted.

Buffy threw him a triumphant smile before returning to gaze at the ships. "So… how long do you think it'll be till we get back to Gondor?"

"We are in Gondor, my lady," Frodo replied.

"Well, yeah, but… you know…"

"No, I do not," he replied. He was rather confused by the way she ordered words. From the hours they had spent together talking about their destinies; she was definitely not one of the normal women in this world. She was slightly taller than the average Hobbit and yet smaller than any man he had ever seen. She lacked the beard so calling her a Dwarf was not an option. He had seen firsthand the effects of calling her a Dwarf. Poor Pippin would likely never be the same.

"I know that many of you find it exciting to sit on this mound and drink to your heart's content at all, but I'm getting bored. I don't know about you, but I've been stuck here for a month. Sure I go on routine patrols. But can't we just shove the crown onto him, say see you later and just, you know… go? What would be so bad about that?"

"You have no idea how much we have to celebrate after thousands of years of turmoil," Frodo said, glancing at her in disbelief. From what he had been learning, she was an intelligent woman. She knew the skills and arts of fighting rather masterfully. Why was it so difficult for her to see how hard things had been? Sure, she had heard the stories. She had had a hard life. No one said that she didn't. But no one had said that their lives were easygoing either! "How hard is it for you to understand that after centuries a King has finally come forth to unite two nations that have not been brothers for over three thousand years?"

He had obviously angered her. He saw her draw in a single breath and watched her eyes narrow as she studied him before rolling over onto her side to face him. "Look," she said, smacking her hand into the grasses. "You may know everything that's been going on here, but I don't okay? I just got here about a blink of an eye ago. I don't need this. I didn't choose this. Where I come from, royalty isn't treated like some celebrity. They're the average Joe of our time. This is unlike anything that I have ever known… ever."

"Then maybe you do not understand," Frodo said quietly. "You say you pay for consequences…"

"Well, yeah," she said, gesturing to her surroundings. "You don't see a big bright light anywhere, do you? That was supposed to be my tunnel."

"Yet you have no idea what it would mean for these people to see you as Queen," he concluded. She shook her head slightly. "I pity your world."

Buffy snorted and dropped back onto the grasses. "You go ahead and pity it," she sighed as she pulled her hands to her eyes. "I had to go and save it."

"Were you not a leader amongst your people?"

"I was," she said, not moving. "At least, I used to be. But things get complicated. People make mistakes. And then I spend the rest of my life paying for their stupidity while I save the world. So the whole weight of the world thing? I've been there, done that. I so don't want to go through that again."

"Even if they asked you to?" he dared softly.

She pulled her hands away and stared into the sunlit sky. She didn't have an answer for him. Éomer she was sure she could turn down. They weren't close. Well, they had their moments, but as for the familiarity of seeing choices and reasoning, well… they didn't have that. Éowyn would be more difficult to say no to, she decided. But to know that there was a deep sense of attachment to her, well… it was the whole popularity thing all over again. She wasn't about to deny herself the benefits of being a war heroine. She was especially not going to just walk around miserable for the rest of her life, either. Éomer was a considerably generous man for giving her this chance. And despite her best efforts, it was proving to be more difficult to keep her distance. She was more than just a little attracted. She wasn't afraid to admit it. Hell, she wasn't afraid to admit anything.

Frodo got up and moved away sometime during her reverie. He watched as she began to sleep under the dying light and sighed. Just gazing at her face was a history lesson unto itself. He saw the bumps and bruises that still lingered despite the slayer's best efforts to heal herself. He had seen many falter under the greed to achieve more power. But not her. She wanted only for others what she had not taken for herself. No wonder the King liked her. No wonder his people respected her.

He heard a voice call out and glanced up. There was an Elf standing in the light over the woman and the look on his face was pensive. Frodo quickly bowed his head and ducked away. Obviously she was needed for something and far be it for him to intervene where he knew he was in over his head. Unlike her, he knew his boundaries.

But today, he thought, he had crossed that line.

x-x-x

"We're going tomorrow?"

Elladan was beginning to regret his favor to Aragorn to collect this human woman. He winced slightly as she strode beside him. His legs carried him further per step, yet she had no troubles keeping up with him. She had been asking him questions since he'd collected her. And she had had the nerve to act insulted because he had awakened her from her sleep!

"Yes," he said, quickly cutting off her path as he strode across to the grand tent fluttering on the next hill. She quickly paused and followed behind him.

"And you were going to tell me when?" she snapped, her tone irritated. Well, she had no idea how he felt.

"How much longer could you remain here before you felt the need to torture something?" he asked in response.

"You have a point," Buffy replied as they finally reached the tent.

"My lord," Elladan said by way of greeting as they ducked inside. Aragorn had his back to them and was pulling off his gloves.

"I heard you had a bit of fun without me," she said, folding her arms as the King turned to regard her.

"You were missed," he admitted, setting his gloves aside and tugging at his armor.

"Yeah, but, you know, I just had to sit this one out," she said, clearly stating that she wasn't very happy with this decision.

"It was not meant as an insult," Aragorn said quietly, bowing his head to Elladan who happily ducked outside of the tent. The tension had grown to near breaking point when she had stepped inside to face the man who had claimed, of all things, that this was a petty task beneath her. "Your hands were meant to slay foes and destroy armies, not to burn cities."

"Same difference," she said coolly, relaxing against one of the posts. "So… we're heading back to your city."

"It is not my city alone," Aragorn chided her. She rolled her eyes and remained there.

Remembering Frodo's words, she felt her lips twist. "I'm not being very respectful, am I?" she asked, moving towards him.

"I would never see you as having any reason to," he replied, turning towards his water bowl.

"You must think of me as some kind of idiot," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not uncivilized."

"No, you are not," he replied in his pleasant tone, glancing at her as he raised a glass to his lips. "But neither are you prepared to face the days to come."

"I'm getting etiquette lessons from the grubby stubbly guy now?" she asked, bemused.

"Not exactly," he said, his words faltering a bit. "I have asked my foster brothers to assist you. This is but one of the challenges you will face in the days to come. Gondor is one circumstance that you can crawl on all fours for all that matters to me. Rohan will be a new story altogether. They will expect you to act as Gandalf would."

"Oh, so grumpy old man…" she said, shrugging. "I'm not so sure I can pull that off."

Aragorn sighed as he gazed at her. "Do try and remember that this is the first peace these people have known in thousands of years, lady. Underneath your cold, slaying exterior is a woman who is afraid to act like she is." He reached out and took her face, which was twisting into another bemused expression. "It is time to show that you are more than the ice within. There is more to you than a soldier. If the King of Rohan can see it, many will. It is time to become the woman you were born to be."

"Gee, so much inspiration," she murmured. "You're good."

He released his hold and moved towards the back of the tent. She released a long breath. "All right," she said, surrendering her will. "Every now and then, I like to get dressed up and act pretty."

"There is more to you than 'pretty'," he replied, his back to her again. "I think this world is ready for remarkable."

It was late that night when Buffy at last returned to her tent, making sure that every last flap was sealed. She had no desire to be seen by anyone tonight, especially Gandalf or Aragorn. She was already in a foul mood as it was. It didn't help that Aragorn thought she needed to dress up for his coronation. Even with the ships taking them to Osgiliath, it would take a few days to get there. She was going to enjoy all of the attention, but she was beginning to wonder what waited for her in Rohan.

She was just turning her back to change into something more suitable for sleeping when she heard the tent flaps part behind her turned back. "Oh, I am so not in the mood to deal with this right now," she sighed, turning to face the front. "Please, just…"

"Did you wish for me to go?"

Despite her anger, Buffy felt a small smile grace her features. "No," she said, ushering the young King inside. He was a sight for her very sore eyes. "I'm glad to see you."

"Your demeanor would suggest otherwise," he said in a teasing tone as he sat on a bench near her bed. She turned and quickly wrapped her cloak around her shoulders as the cold wind rippled through her small tent.

"Well, until you say otherwise, I'm still your counsel. I still have a right to see my King," she teased in return, sitting on her bed. "But I am glad to see you. I've…" She spent a moment searching her brain for the right word. "I've missed you."

The surprise on his face was evident, even in the darkness. "This is new," he surmised, leaning back.

"I have had almost no one to talk to about anything other than 'yay, king' for the past two weeks," she said with a slight pout. "At least you're interesting."

Something of a smile suddenly flickered on his face. "This coronation will be the greatest affair in all the world," he said. "Surely you must see and respect that."

"I do," she said. "It's just that, well… I don't really know what happens here for a coronation. I just spent the entire evening walking around with a pack on my head."

She swore she saw him smirk as he glanced down, trying in vain to hide his laughter.

When he glanced up, he saw her irritated glare. "My apologies, my lady."

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head. "That's just great. You think it's so amusing… your little counsel gets to learn how to finally act like a lady. The first thing I'm going to do when I get my sword back is chop those fine Elvish necks off."

"I thought you were being taught to possess a gentler nature," Éomer protested.

"This is me you're talking to," she said, giving him a disbelieving look. "I'm not Sears."

"What is this Sears?" he asked her, puzzled.

"Never mind," she said, waving her hand slightly. "All I'm saying is… don't expect too much from me."

He leaned towards her, that glint in his eye maddening. "I would have you no other way," he admitted. "I like your nature the way it is."

"Maybe you should tell that to the grumpy king," she said, pouting slightly.

He reached out to push her hair from her face. "You will endure what is to come," he said. "You are resilient."

"Big words confuse me," she admitted. "Some counsel I've turned out to be."

"You will make a marvelous captain," he said, tilting his head to the side.

She paused, biting her lower lip. "As long as I'm not wearing a dress I'll be okay with it."

"Buffy, Buffy," he said with a sigh, his thumb moving down her cheek. "You make my life complicated for reasons I cannot begin to understand."

"If you say migraines, I will hit you," she said, her eyebrow lifting slightly.

He actually had the nerve to laugh as he looped his arms around her, drawing her into a warm, comforting hug. Buffy found her eyes closing as she rested her head upon his shoulder, inhaling that deep scent he almost always carried with him. As she remained there another minute, her thoughts zoned in to that. Since when had she identified a scent and since when did she find she appreciated it? He sort of smelled a cross between hay and leather and, for some reason, it appealed to her senses. She pressed her nose into his armor and inhaled deeply. Yes, it was definitely that fine scent. As she pulled back, he released her, looking more at ease.

"I hope that one day you will see me as I see you," he said, his fair eyes slightly sad as he pressed his hand to her cheek. "There is much to offer you if only you are willing."

She felt her breath catch in her throat and forced a small smile. She needed to get out of this situation now. "Thank you," she said, flashing him her smile.

She knew he cared for her, but lately those feelings had been changing with her absence. His army just wasn't the same without the blonde riding at its head, commanding the utmost respect. Her speeches left something to be desired, but maybe the Elves could assist her with that. If she were to become a captain in his royal guard, that was something only family could become. He only hoped that someday she could see herself as family, even if she were as close as a sister. He thought of her not as a sister, however. What he felt he couldn't describe, but it was both frightening and intriguing. She commanded both the respect of his soldiers and of himself. He knew he would always be able to count on her because she had never let him down in the months they had now had in one another's company. He bowed his head to her and, to his utmost surprise, she bowed back, grinning. She was teasing him and he knew it. He was beginning to get used to her humor. Slipping away from her tent, he headed into the night, but not before his departure caught the eye of others, further adding rumors to the never-ending mill that Rohan would soon have two leaders instead of only one.

x-x-x

It was on the fifth morning that Faramir came to collect his new lady. She was waiting for him at the gates of the Houses of Healing. In the distance, they could already see four riders coming near the city, announcing the arrival of the King. Aragorn's fleet had landed the morning before and after a long day in Osgiliath, they were finally making the journey west. She smoothed her gown, yet another from Faramir's vast collection, and took the arm of her new paramour. They talked quietly as they moved down the tiers, greeting those who came forth. But nearly everyone was making the long journey outside of the gates.

It was at this time that she saw the efforts Faramir had put into his job and, she thought with a proud smile, Aragorn would be very pleased.

Heralds had been sent to every corner of Gondor and beyond, announcing the return of the King. All who could make such a journey hastened to the city and soon the streets were overflowing once again. Trade and commerce began once the rubble had been cleared away. The sounds of laughter and children filled homes and birds flocked to the trees. The sun grew in strength day by day until all of their dreams were realized and their hope had been restored. For, it was on this day that King Elessar made his way to Minas Tirith.

Thousands upon thousands of people were gathered outside of the gates. Éowyn smiled at the familiar presence of the Rohirrim and felt the slightest flutter in her stomach. She was going to see her brother again this day and with him, her dearest friend. Her smile widened as she felt caught up in the excitement as they reached their final destination. All had gathered bearing their best clothes with banners of all shapes and sizes fluttering in the war breeze from the sea. The trumpets and flutes sounded as the dancers began once again and soon, Éowyn thought, these people would have their faith restored for good.

This had gone on for but an hour when a long line appeared on the horizon. Knowing that her people were amongst them, her smile glowed as Faramir reached for her hand and squeezed it. Giving him the resounding pat in return, she glanced out, waiting for those returning from war to come home at last.

x-x-x

It had been one hell of a long morning.

Buffy had been placed on a bench in Osgiliath, despite the dead city's appearance, it made for one crappy dressing room. She had been given her privacy though and she was ever grateful for that. But when she stepped over to the public for the first time, she could see the awe in their eyes. She felt herself smirking in her old, self-assured ways until she saw the amusement on Elladan's face. He was gazing at her as though he was looking at a ghost. He called her a soldier in formalwear but she basically called him Pointy Ears, which irked him to no end. But today she knew she appeared to be something else when she saw the amusement drift away. He even bowed and offered her an arm. He led her straight to Gandalf and the four Hobbits, who looked upon her with wonder.

"Now this is what living is worth," Gandalf said, obviously pleased with her appearance. He stood aside and gestured her forward. She felt her hand move to her hair. It felt heavy pulled and tugged on top of her head like that, but the two maidens had sworn they knew what they were doing. And she smelled light and fruity and now heavy and dank as the other fragrances she had tried.

Today, she almost felt like royalty.

The Rohirrim awaited her. King Éomer stood at the front of his column and gazed at her. She saw the double-take and tried not to laugh, knowing that she was pretty today. "My… my lady," he said, bowing to her.

She knew that if she returned it, her hair was going to topple from her head. She thought it best to just nod and smile.

And then their long walk began. Sador was obedient, even civil as they walked in their long, controlled columns of horses and men. She must have seen all of the flora in the valleys ahead and was at least trying to act decent and ladylike for a horse. It was as they neared the city did she gaze upon a flood of color and realized it was something other than flowers.

They were people. And there were many of them.

Thousands of people were facing towards each other, divided along the center. As they came upon the vast crowds, many bowed their heads and gave cries of greeting. Buffy felt herself being caught in all of the excitement as they rode on. Her feet were aching from the rather stupid sandal-like shoe as compared to her usual hearty boots. Her hair was starting to feel heavy and her face hurt from smiling so damned much, but still, she thought, it was exciting.

"Are you anxious?" Éomer asked her as they approached the main throng of people. As they were among the first in the long line, they were the first to halt. Aragorn rode forward with his closest guards and what she saw took her breath away. This man was truly a King.

"Just a little," she said to Éomer, turning to him with a smile. "Don't tell me you're not."

"If you believe that this is an occasion to feel anxious about," he said, dismounting with his usual flair. "Just wait until you get to Rohan."

She watched as he was called forward before gently drawing Sador to a halt. Éomer and Imrahil had detached themselves from their men and were moving forward along with a few others. It wasn't until Gandalf turned back and beckoned her forward did she gracefully slide from her mount and moved towards the others.

"This day is for you," Gandalf said once she had reached his side, "as well as for them. Recognize this and prepare for the party of a lifetime."

She was about to open her mouth to reply when a figure stepped forward. From his circle of Rangers, Aragorn stepped forward. Buffy felt a clog in her throat, remembering the Rangers that had died in the battle and were unable to see their King return to his throne. She blinked away any thoughts of sadness though at seeing the King step forward. And what an image he was! He was dressed in his dressy black chain mail and leather-like suit of armor with the white tree and seven stars. Behind him, clasped in the hands of his Dúnedain Rangers, was the black standard sewn for him by his beloved. He wore about him a cloak of pure white, so white that even Shadowfax was pale by comparison. A green jewel held the cloak at his throat and he indeed appeared Kingly as he stepped before them.

At length others went out to meet him. Buffy was very pleased to see that Éowyn was among those standing before the fallen gates to the city. She was dressed in a gown of gold and blue, her fair hair blowing in the great sea breeze. The others caught the look of wonder on her face as she stepped forward. Éomer stepped forward and gently clasped her shoulder with his hand. Her own moved up to cover his as her eyes looked upon the scene unfolding before them. Gandalf moved forward, an old man with his walking stick, towards Aragorn as a large black crate was moved out by four Gondorian guards.

The one Buffy recognized as Faramir met Aragorn in the middle between the two large groups and quickly knelt down upon his knee. "The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office," he said, and in his hand he held out a white rod, which had been explained to her as the symbol of someone who only watched over the royal house but didn't exactly rule over it.

Aragorn took the rod and glanced at it before pushing it back into Faramir's hands, nearly knocking the man over. "That office has not ended," he replied in a loud, kingly voice. "It shall be thine and thy heirs as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"

Faramir rose then with a grateful smile, smoothed his cloak, and turned to his people and spoke in a loud, clear tone. "Men of Gondor, my brothers! Hear me now as the Steward of this realm! Here is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor and Captain of the Host of West! In his hands he brings healing and from the north he comes to claim the throne. Shall he be named King and enter into the City?"

It seemed that a great roar spread through the crowd as the people began crying "Yes!" in one loud tone. Even the instruments sounded momentarily before Faramir held up his hand, silencing the dense crowd.

It was then that Buffy noticed the four men had set the casket down, allowing Faramir to crack it open and pull out a large crown. It was a stunning white, brilliant in the sunlit sky. He was saying a lot of other stuff, too, but little of it she understood. It was something about how a crown was placed on the head of the new King and something about this crown being the crown the last King wore before his death. Then Aragorn took the crown and held it up. His speech was vastly awaited by the entire crowd, but he didn't put it on. Instead, he started talking in what was obviously Elvish, since Legolas, the Elf nearest her, seemed to understand what he was saying. Gandalf stood before her, whispering silently under his breath the meaning of the words. _Out of the __Great__Sea__ to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world. _

"Those words were spoken by Elendil when he came from the Sea in the wind," Legolas said quietly from beside her. "He was the first of the line of Kings of Gondor back in the Second Age.

"Good to know," Buffy muttered under her breath.

Aragorn continued to hold the crown, but he didn't place it upon his head. Instead, he gave _that _back to Faramir as well and said, "By the labor and valor of many I have come into this inheritance. I wish to have the Ringbearer bring to me the crown and allow Mithrandir to set it upon my head for this, too, is his great victory."

Gandalf and Frodo suddenly became the center of all attention as Faramir turned back towards the swell of soldiers and called out, "May the Ringbearer and Mithrandir come forth!"

Frodo came forward and took the crown from Faramir and turned to give it to Gandalf. The Wizard took the crown and held it high as Aragorn bent down to one knee. Slowly, dramatically, Gandalf set the crown on top of Aragorn's head. "Now come the days of the King," he said, standing back and smiling down at the newly crowned King. "May they be blessed."

As Aragorn stood up, a loud roar spread through the crowd. The roar quickly dulled as he turned to face his people, walking towards them as Faramir closed the box, beaming. They gazed at him in amazement as he finally turned to face the Steward, who called out, "Behold the king!"

Then they started cheering. The instruments played and children came forward, jumping up and down and waving their arms. Men thrust their fists into the air and quickly the people swelled about him as he took in his new nation.

He quickly stood back and held out his arm, allowing Frodo and Gandalf to move forward. When the keeper of the keys stood aside, Aragorn passed into the city of Minas Tirith and Gondor once again had its King.

Buffy stood behind, watching as thousands of people struggled to push through the narrow gates and move into the city behind their King. She felt someone trying to direct her and realized that Éomer was still holding onto her. She allowed herself to be directed forward. From where she was standing, she could see level upon level of people following their King. She had a feeling that this was one celebration that would never end.

It was then that she heard someone calling her name. She lowered her gaze and lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the strong sun. Éowyn was moving towards them, beaming. By her side was the Steward Faramir, who released Éowyn's arm before joining the throng still attempting to move into the city. Éomer released Buffy and moved forward to embrace his sister. Buffy found her heart simply moved as she saw their exchange and found herself missing her own sister. She missed Dawn so much right now. She would have loved this.

Before she realized it, there was a stray tear running down her cheek. Éowyn noticed the other woman brushing the tear from her cheek as she gently nudged Éomer aside. For a moment, Merilin looked so sad. Éowyn, who had been granted a great gift of happiness, knew that she had it within herself to put a smile on Buffy's face. She looked absolutely stunning in her own gown of a shade of light green and blue. The sleeves were long and trailed frailly to the ground. It gleamed like silver in the sun, making her stand out rather nicely next to Gandalf.

"Merilin," she said, coming up to the smaller woman.

"It's Buffy," she said with a tremulous smile as she pulled her hand from her eyes. "It's good to see you."

Éowyn smiled at her and hugged the smaller woman. Buffy, caught up in her thoughts of her sister, felt herself return the hug woodenly before Éowyn pulled back. It was then that she saw a rather noticeable change. Éowyn, who had been bummed and rather sulky a little over a month ago, was now glowing. She radiated the sun's warmth, it seemed. Something seemed to have changed within her.

Bending down to the other woman's ear, Éowyn breathed, "The hardest thing in this world is to live in it… that is what you said to me."

Buffy looked at her in disbelief. "What?" she asked softly.

"But to live a life you thought you could only dream of… that is the happiest moment of all," Éowyn said with that small, joyous smile as she moved away.

"Huh?" Buffy asked, turning around to watch Éowyn join Faramir in the long walk towards the city. Shaking her head in puzzlement, she glanced over at Éomer, who looked as confused as she did. "What was that about?" she asked him.

"Of this I am uncertain," he replied, moving towards and then around her. "But we should hasten. If we wait too long, we will miss tonight's celebration."

"Whatever," Buffy said, feeling slightly grumpy as she followed him to stand in the swell.

It was nearly an hour before they even crossed underneath the gates of the great city and another hour before they finally reached the seventh tier. Once again, as they reached the top, they saw Faramir and Éowyn together once again. They were walking hand-in-hand, smiling at one another.

Buffy suddenly understood. "Oh," she said softly.

Éomer, on the other hand, looked rather embarrassed. "Perhaps we should…" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"You really have no idea how to handle this, do you?" she asked, turning to grin up at him. "Do you have a lot to learn."

"It would appear that I do," he said, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed Faramir.

"Relax," she said, her small hand moving up his chest armor and resting beneath his chin. "Your sister is a big girl. She knows what she's doing. Besides…" She bit her lip as she glanced over at the couple's rather private moment. "It isn't as though you've been all chaste, either."

He blinked as he gazed into her open face. For some reason, he felt as though he were in too far over his head. "You do not have long to wait," he said, suddenly bringing his arm around her narrow shoulders and drawing her to him. She jumped slightly at his sudden movement, but her gaze turned almost sly as she gazed at him. "Our people have been talking about their King, as I have heard."

"So have I," she said, almost conversationally. "And they have the strangest idea that their King is going to get hitched."

He bent down so that his breath tickled her neck. "Their perceptions may not be as far removed as you may think," he whispered. He felt her stiffen in his arms, but he held on. "Rohan awaits you, my lady."

As she watched him walk away, she never really thought about how many meaning those two words had.

But she knew he was correct. Who knew what sort of reception she would receive in Rohan…

x-x-x

In Part two of this chapter… King Éomer returns to Rohan with both his sister and his counsel in tow. And does Rohan have a few surprises in store…


	25. A Royal Welcome, Part II

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: As this story takes its final turn, well… I hope you have enjoyed the ride!

_marcus aure1ius - many, many thanks to you. And neither, really, can I._

_Sukera - I promise that I will try._

_XinnLajgin - I only hope you continue to believe that by the end of this chapter. And I will try to update sooner than I have been._

_Russa - You didn't really confuse me. I just chose to be a smartass in my comments. This chapter is mostly original (as are the next few), so I hope to create the illusion that Tolkien did not really miss out on these parts. _

_spike10101 - well, thank you. I am glad you have enjoyed it thusfar. This is the first time I ever wrote anything with a pairing in a crossover ever. _

_vkky - I will update, but sometimes I am rather slow and for that you have my apologies._

_tdk99992000 - well, thanks!_

_Evilelvengoddess - Well, they won't make it easy for that little quote to come true, although it would be rather ideal. The return to Rohan is one with great expectations but is met with... well, something else entirely. Buffy's friends will not make an entrance in this fiction, but I do have something sort of planned later on._

_spk - Well, I'm glad I convinced you that this is going to work out. I only hope you still think so after this chapter. And, yes, sadly, this story is coming to an end. It is like watching a child grow and move onwards._

Chapter Summary: Éomer returns to lead a broken nation rebuilding after devastating battles. Buffy returns only to find that things aren't as easy as they once were and complicated choices need to be made, which may cost her the happiness she had been yearning for.

Chapter Warning: This chapter, I believe, is almost entirely original except for the part at the beginning. While many of you have expressed your pleasure at having my pairing worked to a tee, I should have forewarned you that I do have a nasty habit of ripping the rug from beneath the feet of the assured. After reading the sixth Harry Potter installment, I was sorely tempted to scrap this chapter and force it to have a happy ending. But, I stuck with the story, as it has been completed and I felt rather guilty about this chapter. Many of you were probably expecting grandeur. I can promise good times ahead. This is just one of those "when you fall, you have to learn to pick yourselves back up" lessons.

x-x-x

**Chapter 25**

**A Royal Welcome, Part II**

_By Alyson Kay_

x-x-x

The days that followed were busy, to say the least. King Elessar had his hands full, that much was for certain. Already embassies of the Southrons and Easterlings had appeared before him and he had been merciful, declaring their freedom. He had made peace with Harad, giving them their own spit of land. Already he was preparing emissaries to send into the far breaches of the world in the attempt to extend his hand, but even his mercy had limits. He had seen the darkness and bitterness of this battle and even then, he could not look upon too many more with such aplomb and grace.

It was then that he turned his eye to the heroes of the war. And one of the first he welcomed into his citadel was none other than the Slayer that had been dropped upon them. For a moment, neither one of them could speak. Buffy longed to throw a smartass comment in the air, but decided against it, considering this man was a grand King.

"It pleases me greatly that you have come," he finally said after a few awkward moments of silence.

"It's not like I'm going anywhere," she replied, but she was smiling as she said it. Aragorn walked forward before pausing. "And you have something to say to me."

"I was hoping that I would never have to say this," he said in a worried voice. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Oh… you know, you could always tell me to go away," she said in a friendly voice. "I can take a hint."

"No, lady, stay," he said, waving her forward. "It is just that… there is little to say to you that has not already been said. Your strength is in your will and for this you will reap great benefits in your life here. I do wish that you would consider a life in Gondor or in Ithilien. A woman of your skills would be most welcome."

"So I've been told," she said, folding her arms. "But I think you know that I'm going back to Rohan."

"They are very lucky to have you," he replied, returning to his throne seat.

"There is so much that I want to know about this world," she said, shrugging. "I think I'd like to stick around and find out what happens next."

"Knowing that our greatest foe has been defeated does not necessarily mean all evil has perished forever," Aragorn reminded her. "There may be need for your skills should the time come."

"And you will have it," she replied simply. "Just say the word."

His smile was reassurance enough. "I would not care to break you from your life," he said, tilting his head. "But to know that I have your allegiance..."

"Gondor has my allegiance," she said, straightening up. "Its King has something just a little bit more." She paused. "King Éomer has been talking about returning to Rohan in a few days."

"Naturally, you will go with him," Aragorn said, his smile widening. Buffy felt her eyes roll before leaning back into her column. "I mean you no disrespect."

"None taken," she said wryly. "I'm getting used to it."

Aragorn seemed to think about this for a moment. Then, "You must care for him if your silence protects him."

She shrugged and broke eye contact, her eyes glancing at the ceiling of the ornate citadel. "It's something like that," she muttered, before shaking her head. "Well, it's been… interesting."

Aragorn rose and gestured to the doorway. "Do know that the friendship of Gondor awaits those who fight for her."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a quick smile before ducking outside of the doors. The guards on the outside shut the doors and sealed them as she walked back out into the daylight. She paused as she saw Éowyn waiting for her near the gates leading off of the top tier. "Good morning!"

"I was hoping to speak with you," Éowyn said, joining Buffy as they began to walk back towards the rest of the city.

Buffy felt slightly guilty. She had been spending a fair bit of time with Gandalf these past few days. He was still a huge part of her life, no matter where she lived. He still felt responsible for her and his amusement at her attempt to act like a true woman of this world was laughable by both. Buffy had to admit that wearing the armor was much simpler than spending hours upon hours each day beautifying herself. "I've been busy," she admitted, going for the truth.

"You have," Éowyn agreed. She paused, a slight smile playing about her lips.

"What?" Buffy asked, recalling her confusion on the day of the coronation.

"My brother spoke that you were with Mithrandir yesterday," she finally said.

"Did he?" Buffy asked slowly.

"He seems to know much about you," Éowyn prompted, hoping that the other woman would open up and speak freely.

"He does," Buffy admitted. "We do talk, you know. He's… something." She wasn't quite sure what he was, but she knew her vague answer would appease the King's younger sister.

"He speaks the same of you," Éowyn teased. Buffy threw her a dry, sarcastic look while Éowyn shrugged. "I was hoping to speak with you about that."

"About him?" Buffy asked, frowning. "What is there to ask?"

"Aside from Mithrandir, you have spent a bit of time with him," Éowyn replied triumphantly.

Buffy sighed. "You and the rest of your people… is that all you do, gossip?"

"We do not mean to pry, Buffy," Éowyn said comfortingly. "They have precious little to speak of. To know that their King cares for his counsel…"

She sighed again as they reached the gate leading to the sixth tier. "You know you sound like a broken record, right?"

"I do not wish for him to be hurt," she said stoically. Buffy turned and saw the serious expression on Éowyn's face.

"Is that what this is about?" she asked curiously.

Éowyn nodded.

"I…" Buffy started, but she felt her lungs deflate. How was she going to explain how hurt she had been before and how much she wished it wouldn't happen now? She knew that what she was feeling was wrong, but it had been such a hard journey that she felt she could live a little and enjoy herself. If that meant romancing the one man who found her attractive in armor, what harm was there in that? Apparently his sister thought there was some, because she had never seen Éowyn look so serious and this was the same woman who had ridden into battle. "I honestly don't know what this is," she said at last. "I know I feel something, but it's too soon to be anything…"

Éowyn sat on a bench, watching Buffy as she spoke. She longed to tell Buffy of her own romance and her own happiness, knowing that this woman would find happiness once her heart was settled, but remained silent.

"Your brother means a lot to me," she tried again. "I do care for him. I don't know if I can care for him the way your people ask me to. I'm not ready for something like that. You can't just expect me to live one life, get dumped into another and expect me to be happy about it. You have no idea what I've been through." She saw that Éowyn looked ready to protest and continued on before the other woman could interject. "But you should know something about me. I'm not someone who'll give up without a fight. I can't promise that I'll never hurt him, but one thing I can promise is that I will stand beside him. We're both new at this, you know. He's spent most of his life out in the fields with his horses. I've had my destiny fighting the big bads and the many little bads. But we'll make it work because that's what people like us do."

Éowyn looked relieved as she let out a long stream of pent-up breath. "Thank you," she said with her bright smile.

"Anytime," Buffy replied, joining Éowyn on her bench. "So… you with the glow, come on… tell me."

Éowyn felt her smile return as she began to tell Buffy about Faramir. "The thought of marriage frightens me," she admitted in a low voice.

"It frightens me, too," Buffy added in an undertone.

"The thought of leaving my people is even worse," Éowyn said sadly. "Though I know you have intentions for them, do you not? My brother is a valiant man, but you see us as we are and not as what we were. Our people may have life again, with you leading them. Women in our country can stand and bear arms besides their men and fight for their countries. Even if they remain behind to watch over the children, they will know how to bear strength in arms. It will be a glorious day when women can stand beside the men instead of remaining locked behind in their cages, trapped for an eternity, bound by the chains of family and tradition."

"Would you live to see your women that free?" Buffy asked her in a serious voice. She knew the implications of such freedoms. Faith had to be the best example that she could think of. "To live a life of fighting and winning and battles… you lose bits of your soul, Éowyn. I'm not like other women."

"No," Éowyn agreed, lowering her gaze. "You are not. You remind me of a tale I heard in my youth, of the warrior Queen of Númenor. She was ever strong and valiant and led her people to peace beyond her years. She loved only because she chose to and not because it was expected of her." She leaned over and gently lifted Buffy's hands into her own. "You can have the life you desire. I only wish for your happiness as I have found mine. You have the opportunity to bring great change to our people. My brother knows this. You are bold and resilient and you would make a great Queen."

Buffy sighed and rose, walking away, a hand sliding through her hair.

"You misunderstand me," Éowyn said from behind her. "Éomer knows nothing other than battle and the land. You know the character, the desires, the wants. There is much you can do for our people. I only hope when the time comes, you will understand that Rohan needs you. They do not need a Captain under a great King. They have need for a Queen."

Buffy turned to look at her. She saw the open look on Éowyn's face and suddenly felt the need to keep her mouth closed. "Yeah," she said, crossing her arms. "The choice might be simple for you. But for someone who has loved and lost and screamed and bled… the choices are never easy."

"Have you not wanted more from your destiny?" Éowyn asked. "I may be a simple woman, Buffy, but even I am old enough to understand. I have seen it in your eyes. You desire more than a simple woman ever would. You have taken it because you believe you have earned it. Look at the faces of those you have saved. Even King Elessar vies for your loyalty. Imagine all that you can be and see and do should you take this final step."

"Éowyn," Buffy sighed, before sitting down again. Trying to explain this to her was getting frustrating. But she knew, deep inside, that these were only excuses that she was throwing out. Éowyn had a perfectly sane argument going. Rohan did need strong leadership to help it recover from a devastating war. And she knew that her experience would help greatly. The only problem was that the commitment to being a Queen usually meant having to marry the King. It wasn't that she didn't like Éomer in that way. It was far more complicated than that. Buffy had loved very few men in her life and trusted even less with her entire being. She just wasn't sure if she could love Éomer. To her, he was a simple man with a simple royal duty of caring for his country. She had led the Scoobies for years alone.

It was marrying into a royal family with all of its rules, obligations and privileges that scared her. Buffy didn't scare easily. But love was something of a mystery to her. She had loved Angel with every fiber of her being. She supposed she loved Riley despite the fact that her relationship with him had started right after Angel had left. Spike was another story altogether, but she could safely convince herself that she was in lust with him. Éomer was something of a different sort altogether. She was attracted, but she had the feeling that the laws of this land were different and that it would be totally taboo to sleep with someone and then move on. No, from what she had seen and heard these people mated for life. The prospect of living a long life alone did not appeal to her.

"What is it?" Éowyn asked, seeing the different emotions spread across Buffy's face. "There is something bothering you."

Buffy nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm not ready for what you're asking me to do," she replied uneasily. "I can't… I'm sorry." She quickly stood and walked off into the crowds, struggling to control her pounding heart and her racing pulse. She heard Éowyn calling her name behind her, but she didn't dare turn back.

Once she had returned to the cottage that she had been given as a gift, she saw the many tents of the soldiers below. They were all singing and preparing for the return trip to Rohan. How easy it would be to hide amongst them until they set off! She was sorely tempted because she was starting to feel claustrophobic from all of the attention. Now that the battles were over and the biggest bad was gone, all eyes seemed to turn to who controlled what country and who was marrying whom. It was all unfair and just because she was the new girl… they felt she deserved more grief than others, she supposed.

She went and lay upon her cot, pressing her hand to her eyes. What she needed now was to cool down before she blew up at the wrong person. Getting back to her feet, she reached for her cloak and a small bar of soap and headed towards the back of the house. The cool water was soothing for her sore muscles, and she felt her skin tingle to life as she scrubbed vigorously. Once she'd rinsed herself off, she wrapped herself in the cloak and made her way back towards her simple room.

The problem was, someone was already standing there.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" she asked, outraged as she grabbed at her tunic and trousers while trying to hold the cloak around her body. For some reason that she couldn't begin to fathom, Éomer felt that the barriers between them had disappeared completely, but to barge in unannounced was a thing unheard of!

"I was looking for a reprieve," he said by way of apology, watching as she held her clothing to her body, her hair spilling droplets of water onto the floor at her feet, which peeked out from beneath the hem of the cloak. He felt his thoughts stray elsewhere and fought to keep his attention to the reason why he was there and not the reasons he was thinking of now. Clearing his throat slightly, he raised his gaze to meet hers. She was watching him, her eyes narrowed.

"So you thought you could just hide here?" she asked, her tone rising as she backed away from him. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"My apologies, my lady…"

"And quit it with the 'my lady' crap," she snapped, tugging the long blanket across the small room as she began to vigorously dry her skin. "Obviously people have been listening to you and they have been giving others some pretty crappy ideas."

He listened to her rant behind her blanket, but said nothing. He sighed and lifted his gaze to the ceiling before making himself comfortable on the sole chair in the room. She was still raving on the other end and he saw a bare arm slip above the blanket before the other did. He knew that he had caught her off-guard, but he was getting desperate. He was to meet with the King Elessar the evening, but his own people kept following him like rabid dogs. The only peace he ever felt was while he was in this room. And he knew it well.

The blanket was pushed aside as Buffy, now fully dressed, re-emerged. "What?" she asked him, seeing the look on his face. She set her wet cloak aside and sat on the end of her bed. "What is it?"

He told her what had been going on since he'd vowed to spend more time with his people.

"You're not much of a people person, are you?" she said at last, getting back to her feet and walking towards the pitcher and glasses that remained on a small table near the narrow doorway. "Water?"

He accepted his glass and watched as she sat, her eyes never leaving his face. "What feel you?" he asked, sensing that something was on her mind.

"Just… it's nothing," she said, shaking her head and forcing a smile. "Think nothing of it."

"There is something on your mind," he surmised. "You are bothered by this."

"It's just that the more I hear this… thing, the more I believe it'd be good for me. I'm running out of excuses." She saw that he had no idea what she was going on about and elaborated. "They keep telling me that I would be a good Queen," she continued, waving her hand impatiently. "But they don't understand what it's like for me to—"

Éomer put his hand in the air, sufficiently silencing her. "Worry not," he said calmly, "for I have heard all of this and more."

The look of relief on her face was something that surprised Éomer. Would it truly be that bad to be a Queen?

"Don't get me wrong," she said softly. "I do care for you." She set her glass aside and moved towards him. "But it's not love. It's too soon to be love." She stopped right above him and moved to his side to glance out the doorway. He gently reached over and took her arm, drawing her near.

"To whatever end, Buffy, you are worth the price of every battle," he said softly. He saw her eyes glance down and reached up to push her gaze towards him again. "Never believe you are nothing more than what you can become."

Her sweet smile flashed at him as he rose to tower over her. For some reason, this didn't intimidate her in the least. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said in a tired voice.

He caressed her face a moment longer before pressing his forehead to hers. "But know that what I feel is lasting," he said as her arms reached up around his shoulders.

"For someone who knows so little about dating, you sure are insightful," she teased.

"For one who claims she knows nothing but battle, you are certainly a taunt," he shot back.

She shrugged a little. "Hey," she smirked. "It's what I do."

He bent down and took her lips, her damp hair cool between his fingertips. She responded rather quickly for one who claimed that he didn't hold her interest all that much. After a long moment, they broke apart. Her look was almost dewy as she pulled back slightly. He released her as she stepped away, her fingers moving towards her lips. "I thought you had a meeting with Aragorn," she said, sitting back down on the bed and stretching slightly.

"I will meet with him when he calls," Éomer replied.

"Meaning that whoever comes to get you is going to just sit there and watch the show?" she asked, pushing the wet cloak from her cot and lying down upon it. Éomer watched as she settled down for a late-afternoon sleep. "What are you going to do while you wait?"

"That is the reason why I am here," he replied, watching as she turned to him sleepily. "We will leave tomorrow."

"Already?" she asked, frowning. "Didn't we just get back here?"

"There is much to see to," he explained. "I have not seen my home since before the final battle."

"I bet it'd be great to see it again," she said, watching him as he paced around. "I know I'm looking forward to it."

He watched her sleepy eyes follow him before he paused. "Get some rest," he said in his comforting tone. "I will see you at the dinner tonight."

"Yeah, you will," she yawned before closing her eyes. "But you don't have to go."

"I do not feel it is proper to—"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, rolling onto her back. Éowyn's words about her loneliness were ringing in her ears. "But you don't have to leave just because I want to sleep. You can stay."

He quickly sat beside her cot, watching as she drifted off to sleep. Lifting his rough hands, he stroked her damp hair, feeling the silky texture beneath her fingertips. She seemed to relax beneath his touch, as though he were protecting the world from darkness as she rested. He watched her face as she slept, his fingers brushing over her cheeks and lips. She truly was something and it took every fiber of his being to ensure that it remained proper. He knew not of this love but felt that she had felt it. There must be something so liberating about feeling thus, he thought, watching her as she slept. He only hoped that one day he would understand how it felt to feel it.

He heard the sound of a throat clear behind him and turned to see one of the messengers waiting in the doorway. "My lord," the boy said uncertainly. "King Elessar calls for you."

"I will come," he said, rising. He turned to make certain that he hadn't awakened her.

"My lord," the boy said, watching as Buffy slept. He had been hearing rumors about this supposed warrior on the streets and the fact that she was also a suitable candidate for a queen. After witnessing the tender moment between the two, he now knew those rumors to be true. "Do you wish to wake her?"

"Nay," Éomer replied, a smile settling on his face. "I would not awaken her for the world." Turning, he followed the boy out of the cabin and through the crowded streets of Minas Tirith.

King Elessar was awaiting him on his throne. The moment Éomer entered, Aragorn rose and embraced Éomer like a brother. "Between us there can be no word of giving or taking or reward, for we are brethren," he said as they parted. "In happy hour did Eorl ride from the north and neither people has failed the other nor shall we fail. Now," he continued, returning to his seat, "as you know, Théoden lies in wake. Do you wish to return him to the land of your fathers or would you rather he remain in a tomb of the Hollows, to remain with the Kings of Gondor forever?"

"Since before you came from the grass, I have loved you," Éomer replied. "But for awhile I must return to Rohan for there is much to heal and affairs that must be set. But as for the former, when we are prepared, we will send and he will sleep forever in his beloved country."

"As you wish," Aragorn replied simply.

"And I will return as well," a female voice declared loudly from the doorway. Both men turned to see Éowyn walking inside, her long gown brushing the floor. "I will help you with your labors, brother," she said, setting her hand upon Éomer's arm. "I wish to look upon my land once more but I will return."

Aragorn glanced at her curiously, but the answer to his question was revealed as Faramir returned. Seeing Éowyn standing beside her brother and before the King, he moved forward. "Éowyn?"

She quickly relayed her message to Faramir, who appeared startled, but easily accepted her decision. "I will wait for you," he said, pressing a hand to her face. "For as long as you endeavor to leave, I will wait for you. There will be a day when I will wed you and all you have dreamt will be brought forth."

"You have been given a great gift," Aragorn agreed as both Faramir and Éowyn turned to regard him. "Ithilien I have given you, but this woman's love shall not be taken lightly, for long have I wished her happiness. To see her smile is a great victory." Éowyn looked down despite her wide smile and felt Faramir's arm tighten about her shoulders. "Long may your love stand." To Éomer, he added, "And as for you, my brother, your heart speaks truly?"

"It does," Éomer concurred. He felt fairly confident in admitting this.

"The truth will be revealed 'ere the end," Aragorn replied. "She has spoken of returning to Rohan?"

"She will return," Éomer said. He could feel Éowyn tense from next to him and gave her a puzzled look, but for once she held her tongue.

"Very well," Aragorn said, rising.

"We will leave in the morning," Éomer said, bowing his head slightly. "We will hasten to return."

"Of that I have no doubt," Aragorn replied. "The thoughts of our people go with you," he said, indicating both himself and Faramir. "Farewell and may your journey be most safe."

x-x-x

The early morning light was just breaching the valley when thousands of riders were gathered, their belongings packed atop their steeds. Buffy carefully wove Sador amongst the crowd, Éowyn following close behind her, Faramir's steed bearing his soon-to-be bride. With them were Elladan and Elrohir, the kin of Elrond, who would return to collect something, or at least that is what Buffy got from the conversation. All of the men gave calls of welcome, and Buffy returned the greeting, her smile broad and her mood bright.

All too soon, King Éomer was leading his many troops through the Pelennor. Many Gondorians were lined alongside the roads, praising the passing men and women. Buffy and Éowyn rode directly behind the King and the rest of the captains and Marshals followed close behind. Elladan and Elrohir rode one on either side of the King. But as the day wore on, they dropped back, allowing Buffy to push forward. Éowyn remained behind with her brother's closest guards, wishing to give her brother and his counsel some privacy.

"We will return to Edoras in two day's time," he said, giving her his usual report.

"Not bad," she said, frowning as Sador continued walking. "Then again, I have been looking forward to this since you started talking about it."

"Your anticipation is most enlightening," Éomer agreed.

Much to Éomer's delight, Buffy had spent a majority of their last dinner in Gondor at his side the night before. When he had asked her about it, she said that she felt comfortable at his side, knowing that he rather liked her nearby. He replied that he did, because he did enjoy her company. Under the eyes of their guards, they laughed together, sharing glances over yet another delicious meal. They even left the dinner together as the King had wanted to escort his counsel back to her cottage. Gandalf, who had been most amused, claimed that Éomer was acting most gentlemanly. Altogether, Éowyn thought from across the room, their first public appearance in the eyes of Gondor had been rather pleasant.

Of course, they were both grateful to leave such a feat. They had enjoyed their walk together as they had both been under the effects of the rather intoxicating Elvish wine. Buffy did have to admit that it was one of their better evenings together.

"You know you like it," she shot back at him. He turned to her before clearly rolling his eyes. Hearing her laugh was like listening to fine music as she continued riding by his side. He rather enjoyed the company and the familiarity of having such a figure ride by his side. "Or," she added quietly, "at least you did last night."

His gaze was on her so quick that she smirked. His eyes narrowed at the look on her face. "You rather enjoy the humiliation, do you?" he asked, glancing around to make certain that none could hear them. Though they were traveling at a brisk pace, they were still ahead of Éowyn, who seemed to be perfectly happy riding alone about fifty feet behind them.

"It's not embarrassing if you like it," she admitted. His eyes spied the faint amount of color on her cheeks and he watched her look down. They continued riding on.

As they neared the capital city, small boys rode up on ponies for word, only to return back to the city to prepare for the coming of their King. Buffy could easily sense the overwhelming feeling of relief and gratitude that these soldiers had made it home alive. Even Éowyn was full of smiles, talking endlessly about her experiences in Edoras, growing up as a child. Éomer was most talkative, speaking of reforms and decisions he had already made. Even as they passed through burnt-out shells of houses and farms leftover from Saruman's days, Éomer was already deciding to rebuild these towns and to make them stronger. Buffy remained by his side, offering suggestions as he spoke. Éowyn became increasingly aware that this pairing did make a good team as they both seemed genuinely concerned for the people they saw as they passed. There was much work that needed to be done and many hurts to heal before a true peace was really found.

They stopped and remained in the valley their last night before coming to Edoras. Buffy remained alone near her pack, staring at the wide open sky. In Minas Tirith, the sky was limited by mountains. In the open plains, however, north of the mountains, the stars seemed more vivid than ever. The answers to her endless questions had to be up there, she surmised. She only wished she could find them.

"My lady," Elladan said quietly, breaking her concentration. She turned to give him an irritated look, but by this point he was used to her mood swings.

"Can I help you?" she asked testily.

"I wish to prepare you for tomorrow," the Elf replied, extending his hand to the woman. She ignored it and scampered to her feet, stumbling slightly in the sharp darkness.

"Did he put you up to this?" she demanded, obviously meaning the King.

"Nay," Elrohir replied for his brother, appearing from behind a tent. "Nor did his sister. This was a wish that we had for you bequeathed to us by our brother."

"So this was all Aragorn's idea," she grumbled, following them into their tent. "I have no wish to be your guinea pig tonight. I'm tired and, if you couldn't guess, I'm not exactly pleasant."

"There is no need for good will," Elladan said in a soothing tone as he moved over to something wrapped in a cloak that had been placed on a cot. When Edoras had heard of their King's return, they had prepared an encampment for him. This was just one of the hundreds of tents that lined the valley. "This was given to you by one of the women of Gondor," he continued, unwrapping a long gown from one of the cloaks. "She had heard you had nothing of sorts to wear for your own coronation."

"I'm not being coordinated," she snapped in reply, but her protests fell short the moment she saw the gown. It was a deep shade of red, the deepest color, almost the same shade as blood. It cut across the neck and had those long, billowing, floor-length sleeves and a tight, laced-up bodice. It was one of the more provocative gowns she had seen and she felt a slight bit of color fall onto her cheeks.

"I believe she likes it," Elrohir said with some satisfaction as he turned, revealing the shoes that went with the gown. "It took us many days to procure these, but we felt them necessary."

"Of course you did," she replied.

"Before we prepare you for your day tomorrow," Elladan said, giving her a critical eye as he returned the dress to its cloak, "you must rest. You will take our tent. We will ensure that you will have no visitors tonight. Even the King will be forbidden to enter."

Of this, she was grateful. For the past three days of riding, she hadn't gotten much sleep. She gave them a thankful smile and shooed them from the tent before dropping onto the second cot. She was asleep within minutes.

As soon as dawn broke the next morning, Buffy found herself being pushed from one end of the tent to the other. After a rather cold bath, she found her hair being pulled from her scalp in the attempt to dry it 'ere they broke camp. A few extra hours had been given for all to clean themselves up for what was sure to be one hell of a spectacular celebration.

At last, Buffy was allowed to rise. She felt slightly off-balance on heels, since she was used to her battle boots. The dress was surprisingly light-weight, despite the long train and flowing sleeves. When Elladan admitted that this was an Elvish dress of old, she felt like slapping him. They had been planning this torture all along. Her hair had been twisted into a simple twist behind her head and Elrohir had insisted she wear a strand of silver atop her head. As soon as they led her from the tent, she began seeing the difference between the soldiers and herself. For one, they kept bowing left and right wherever she walked. She quickly walked over and forced them back up, sometimes lifting them clear off their feet, demanding they not do that anymore. Éowyn, who watched this last exchange while struggling to hold in her laughter, next fell under the wrath of a pissy Slayer.

"Do not concern yourself with them," Éowyn chided gently, taking Buffy's arm and leading her through the camp. "They see you as you do not see yourself. Today you look like royalty." Lifting her flat clay bowl of water, she held it towards Buffy so that the younger woman could gaze at herself.

"Wow," Buffy said softly, watching as the softened image of herself looked upon the water with awe. Lifting her eyes, she saw Éowyn's watery smile.

"You are truly a vision," she said, bowing her head as she returned to bowl to its table. "Please do not take offense. They only wish the best for you. And today is for you." Turning, she collected a long dark cloak and wrapped it around Buffy's slender shoulders. "This will hide your appearance from my brother if you wish."

But, for some reason, Buffy was sick of hiding. "Not today," she said, quickly slipping the cloak from her shoulders. "Today I feel free and I want to show it, you know?"

Éowyn smiled, indicating that she understood all too well. Buffy quickly turned and made her way to Sador, who appeared to be startled to see her master without her usual armor and fifty extra pounds of weaponry. Every last dagger and axe was stripped from Sador's saddle and Buffy quickly took to Sador's back, rubbing her muzzle reassuringly. The camp began to prepare to make way and by late morning, they were all in long, grand lines. Éomer finally appeared from his tent, dressed in the iron-clad armor of a King. He suddenly paused, startled when he saw the small-boned blonde atop Sador, moving to the left and talking easily with the other captains. She was truly a vision in red, he thought, watching as her smile caught the light. And then their eyes met.

Time seemed to pass an eternity before they finally returned to their previous tasks. He felt as though he could breathe again, but it was certainly not easy.

It wasn't until they were halfway to Edoras did her horse finally come beside his. "I have to say… love the armor," she said with her wide smile.

"You are quite the vision yourself," he replied with a small bow of his head. "I was not under the impression that I had asked you to take such care in your costume."

"Neither was I," she said airily. "But now I feel pretty. And I didn't want to look all sloppy and normal on your first big day."

He looked ever so relieved as he realized this. A King was looked upon with great respect by the company he traveled with. Traveling with his counsel in armor was one thing, but traveling next to a woman he cared for adorned in such beautiful clothes was another thing altogether. "It means a great deal that you have taken such care. Today, you are the most beautiful creature under such sky as I see revealed," he spoke seriously, his eyes never leaving her face.

Her sarcastic smile melted away as she felt a blush creep to her cheeks. No matter what he said in that certain way he said it, it always managed to touch her. "You are one hottie yourself," she replied softly. Reaching between their horses, he grasped her hand and squeezed it. She returned the gesture, but they didn't release hands until they came over the final hill. Edoras was settled on the great mound before them, but it was clear that between their forces and Edoras was yet another throng of people awaiting the return of their King and war heroes. After releasing his hand, Buffy drifted back to Éowyn, who wore a knowing smile. "Oh, shut up," she told the smirking Lady.

"You did this for him," she told Buffy in an understanding voice, gesturing at Buffy's elaborate costume.

"Oh, really?" Buffy asked sarcastically.

"You could have made yourself far less obvious," Éowyn teased gently, yet she was smiling.

"And what if I don't want to be so un-obvious?" Buffy asked, riding forward. Éowyn watched her as she rode on, shaking her head slightly. When the full impact of Buffy's words hit her, she smiled. She had done a great service, a selfless act, and she was becoming increasingly aware of the respectful glances the lesser men were giving her. There were many now riding alongside the army that never knew their King Théoden had fallen, much less the name of a potential queen riding aside their newest King.

As they rode into the hilly valley, there was a long line of banners held aloft, the brisk mountain winds sweeping them gaily over the heads of what appeared to be every last man, woman and child of Rohan. There was a group of children standing before the flag bearers, each holding a single branch of what appeared to be some light-colored wood. Adorning the wood were a few pale green leaves and the smallest white blossoms she had ever seen. Behind the bearers were the sounds of the soft horns, a lament to all of those who had fallen. Éomer drew his horse to a stop and the others obediently paused behind him.

Buffy frowned as she recognized the rider moving towards them. There was one rider on either side, and the man riding held something in his hand. It was a larger version of a white stick, only it looked more like a scepter. She had seen enough of these during her time in Giles' apartment. The tip of the white rod was painted red. Buffy glanced above her and saw their own standard, slightly grubby-looking to the other banners waving freshly about a hundred feet away. The crowd was not making a sound. Some people were on their toes, craning their necks to find a familiar face in the rather diminished crowd. Some were standing silently with tears streaming down their cheeks, accepting the comforting touch of their loved ones and friends. Others still lowered their heads and bowed before the King, who accepted the white rod with a heavy look upon his face.

And, without warning, he passed it over to his right. Sador was standing slightly behind him, yet rode forward without Buffy's signal. As many pairs of eyes turned to her, she took the white rod into her hand. Now, at closer inspection, it almost looked like plastic. She glanced up towards Éomer as though to ask what she was supposed to do now, but found that he had dismounted and was walking forward. Noticing that the Captains and Marshals were also moving away from their steeds, Buffy shot a glance over her shoulder towards Éowyn. She made a very small hand gesture. Buffy understood this as to dismount and follow. She did so as quickly as she could, easily overtaking the now swelling group as it descended on the children in the front. Quietly, they all began removing the flowers from the stem and tossing them at the ground. The horns began again just as a large gust of wind came. Buffy felt the exhilarating force of the gust as the small white petals took flight, looking like large snowflakes spiraling upwards.

The sound of the horns died away, leaving behind a long silence. At last, Éomer stepped forward and called out, "The days of darkness have ended. Assured our bond with Gondor has become. We will now share in the days of peace!"

Unlike the people of Gondor, who weren't able to keep their noise level down, the mood in Rohan was downright somber. Buffy took to glancing around at the children in the front row, all staring ahead. Her eyes in particular took to a small girl with long golden hair, wide dark eyes staring forward. From where she was standing, Buffy could see her chin trembling and felt the overwhelming desire to comfort the little girl. She was shaken by her thoughts with a powerful jab to her elbow. One of the Marshals was pointing forward, a sarcastic glint on his face. She quickly followed his instruction as he muttered, "Give him the white rod," behind her. As soon as she was behind him, she reached out to hand him the rod, but he took her wrist and drew her level with him.

Suddenly face-to-face with thousands of stone-faced peasants blinking uncaringly at her caused her a momentarily lapse of thought. It was like facing the potentials all over again. Only these were people of all ages. She noticed that the children had gathered before them. Catching the little girl's eye, she attempted a smile and received a faint one in return.

"My Counsel," Éomer announced to the crowd at large. Buffy lifted her eyes and felt her arm being lifting in the air along with the rod. For some reason, she saw many of the younger women casting her mutinous glances. Buffy was slightly taken aback, her eyes glancing from looks of deep distrust to gazes of open hostility. She could hear Éowyn's voice with the rest of the army behind them, until she saw the fair-haired Lady step up to her brother's side.

"Your King returns and with him valiant men," she spoke, taking over the role for which Buffy had not been informed of. "They have fought long and hard and together we will share in the days of peace."

And that was that. At last, the people seemed to have some reaction other than staring at them. Every last one of them, even those who carried the flags, bent to one knee and lowered their heads. Noticing the others around her making the same gesture, she tore her hand from Éomer's grip and quickly dropped into the unfamiliar position. When they all stood up, there was naught but silence. It nearly deafened her from where she was standing. Then, moving aside, King Éomer was able to walk into his city. Buffy and Éowyn obediently waited for Sador and her borrowed horse and soon followed the King.

The Golden Hall was its usual somber self, but it had not seen one moment of attack. It looked the same as it had the last time Buffy had seen it, and for this she was relieved. It was nice to know some things hadn't changed.

Upon their arrival, she handed Sador off to one of the returning stable boys, who glanced at her, slightly fearful.

"What, like I'm going to bite?" she called out as the boy positively hurried away from her. "What did I say?" she asked, turning to one of the Marshals, her tone clearly indicating that she was hurt.

"You are important to us," the Marshal replied, giving her a rather pertrubant look. "He said it with few words. But his feelings were made absolutely clear."

"So I keep being told," she sighed, trudging past him towards the house. "And told again and again and…"

Once inside the grand building, she stopped to look around, folding her arms to her chest and smiling at the familiar interior.

"My lady," a young voice inquired. She turned and saw two boys looking at her, slightly awestruck.

"Can I help you?" she asked, moving her arms to her sides. They exchanged an unnerved look and moved away from her slightly.

"Lady Éowyn has asked for you," the first boy said, looking nervous.

"Oh, okay," she said, and left it at that. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs, lady," the second boy said, his voice gaining confidence, "in the throne room."

"Thanks," she said, giving them both a cheerful smile and hustling away. Despite being away for the past few months, she seemed to remember the way. She soon found the winding staircase that led to the side of the room and found it empty except a woman standing at the edge of the room, staring up at the large green banner bearing a white horse hung over the throne. Éowyn turned as she heard footsteps. "You called?" Buffy asked simply, dragging her dress behind her.

"There is a ceremony tonight," Éowyn said by way of greeting. "It is more of a welcome."

"Do we get to sit and be stared at all night?" Buffy asked, still quite unimpressed with their somber welcome. Éowyn, on the other hand, looked troubled.

"Today was our welcome back to this land," Éowyn replied quickly. "Tonight we will celebrate the dead."

"Oh, so it'll be just like the last few weeks?" Buffy asked, making a face. Éowyn's troubled face seemed to relax a bit as she realized that they both had reservations for the evening they were about to face. "So… what's the deal then? Dress up, dress down, what?"

"Tonight is a night that we celebrate those who have died," she said, smoothing her worn traveling gown. "All who appear tonight will wear their best attire."

"So, it's another dress up?" Buffy asked, moodily brushing hair from the hem of her rather glamorous gown. "I would have waited to wear this had somebody told me."

"That is not the more pressing matter," Éowyn said, looking almost ashamed to bring up the next subject. "Buffy, the men are one thing. They have seen you in battle and they respect you because you never turned your back on them. But these are the common people that my brother leads. They have known no peace for so long because of Saruman's grasp. They did not wholly trust Théoden and Éomer is even more unknown to them because he spent so much of his time away from the city. They know even less of you."

"Is this a problem?" Buffy asked.

"They have to get to know you," Éowyn said, and Buffy found at last what Éowyn had been stressing over. "They will not welcome you as warmly as the others. It will take time for them to accept you."

Now Buffy knew what healing the hurts meant. These people had been terrorized for so long that they didn't really have a leader. Now that their peripheral leader had been brought forward into the limelight, these people were going to need a lot of convincing. "You don't think I can do it, do you?" she asked suspiciously.

"There is no ill feel towards your skills," Éowyn replied, looking ashamed again. "But there may be ill will towards your relations with Éomer."

"I see," Buffy said, her voice distinctly colder.

Éowyn's eyes widened at the look on Buffy's face. "It is not that they do not trust you. They do not know you. They will not trust you. They see you as an intruder in our suffering. The men will follow you but the people…" Her tone trailed off. "You are the outsider here as is he."

"Uh huh," Buffy said, drawing herself up to her full height.

Éowyn gave a great sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Until they accept him as King, you may want to distance yourself from him. It would do you both a great service."

"All right," Buffy said in the same strained voice.

"I am sorry," Éowyn said, giving her an apologetic look. "This was brought to my attention by Éothain, who speaks for those he has spoken with since his arrival back to Edoras." She paused. "Perhaps this is what you have been looking for."

Buffy didn't like the accusatory note in Éowyn's voice and chose to ignore it. Shaking her head slightly, she felt the sudden need to escape. It was suddenly becoming a lot harder to breathe. "Sure," she added, pressing a hand to her chest. "Where…?"

"The room where you stayed last time is available for your use," Éowyn replied, her body now hidden in shadows.

Buffy said nothing more except rush towards the staircase and soon found herself in a less-than-familiar room, but it was one that was comforting all the same. Closing the heavy door behind her, she smacked her palms into the ornate wood and sighed angrily. Was it possible that she had made the biggest mistake of her life by coming to a country that didn't even know her? What had she been thinking? Was there a reason why she expected to be loved and accepted by a people that didn't even know her name? Was there…?

There was a gentle knock on the door. Pulling her face off of the wood, she straightened her skirt, pushed back a few wayward strands of hair towards her bun, and pulled the heavy handle.

On the other side, Éomer looked irate as he stormed into her room.

"You shouldn't be here," she said quietly, closing the door behind him.

"I must apologize," he said in a rush of words, "but this was a course I have never expected."

"It's okay, really," she said, struggling to smile, but falling short. "I understand. I just don't think it's very fair."

"I thought that this is what you would have wanted," Éomer said, adopting Éowyn's accusatory tone.

She was glad at that moment that her back was to him. She closed her eyes and felt as though it took every ounce of strength to say what she was about to. "It isn't," she said softly, turning to look at him. "I didn't want this." She failed to register that he was still wearing that armor that seemed to make him even more kingly than before. "I… If I can't…"

"I will not lose you," he said, coming up behind her and resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You won't," she said, trying to keep the odd tightening in her abdomen from controlling her voice. "I'm still here. I'll be here. I just…"

"Do not say that this has been for nothing," he said, his tone more forceful as he reached for her arm and pulled her about to face him.

"It wasn't for nothing," she said in a blank tone, because she had lost every last thought on how to explain how she felt. It would have been so much more comforting to just break it off there, but part of her wanted to hold onto the one good thing that had happened to her in this world. "I want you."

There was a complex range of emotions across his face as he reached down to touch her cold cheek. "When all of this pain is over," he said, bending down to press his lips to her forehead. "I will find you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said tightly as his arms tightened around her. "But you can't expect me to wait forever."

She felt his body slacken as he pulled away. "I assume you mean to return to Gondor or else travel with Mithrandir?"

"If I have to," she said, her tone very tight now. She stepped away from him. He took one last lingering look at her and smiled.

"You truly are a vision," he said softly, as though speaking to himself. "My Uncle should have lived to see you like this."

She felt as though her tight smile were reaching a breaking point. She struggled to control the manic laughter which was easily threatening to overwhelm her overtaxed senses but watched as he gave her one last, sad look before departing. Once the door had closed, she walked over and collapsed onto her mattress, pressing her hands to her face. Sighing, she withdrew her hands and felt her body fall backwards onto the rather comfortable mattress.

For reasons she had yet to understand, things had become that much more complicated. And she had no idea how to fix them.

x-x-x

In the next chapter, Éomer prepares to return to Minas Tirith as Buffy struggles through life in Edoras. Éowyn, on the other hand, is torn between the love for her country and her pending marriage.


	26. Their Darkest Hour

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: Five chapters remain… I really hope you have enjoyed the trip as we come upon our journey's end.

_Dreamzone__ – Well, good news travels slower at times. Rohan did get attacked more than once. It was ambushed by both Saruman and Sauron, the only real estate to get a kiss by both demons. They do not yet know that their King is dead, or if they do, they remember Théoden as the man who nearly let Rohan fall except when Aragorn bailed him out at Helm's Deep. I always felt that Éomer returned back to Edoras and Rohan to set the record straight – to prove that Rohan still has a bit of pride left within Her. Buffy just has to prove herself a little more… in other words, it's time for her to prove that she's still got some spunk left. All of this rather sudden romance couldn't have just washed her out, right? _

_S.mary__ – I am sorry to disappoint, but it had to be done. What kind of writer would I be if I said "happily ever after… blah blah" so close to the end? They will get their happy ending. They just have to cross a few more roads to get there. And I am really glad you are enjoying this story… it has been a gem for us to write (and re-write, and re-write…)_

_XinnLajgin__ – Uh-oh. Dare I ask what those words meant? I'm not even sure what language that was… oh, dear. I really hope that wasn't a slander to this story. Harry Potter did disappoint for once, but after reading the latest Entertainment Weekly section, I am convinced otherwise. Two more years is a very small price to pay for the end of an era. I am glad you enjoyed the chapter, though. It was a hard one to write and an even harder one to edit, especially after reading something that was far less happy than this._

_Nikki – why, thank you. And, she will get her happy ending. I can promise you that._

_gregdoreza__ – now that was one heck of a compliment. For someone who barely watched the show, I really do appreciate it._

_Sparky24 – No, I couldn't give them anything like that. It would have been far too easy. As for the homecoming to Rohan, Rohan has been inundated with their weak King and attacks from both east and west. This is a people who has seen nothing but war and their greatest ally, Gondor, could do nothing to help because not only was their Steward a weak man, but he had to look to his own borders as well. Rohan finally has the chance for strong leadership, and they are about to see that there is more than just one person they can count on._

_General Mac – my, my… you expect Buffy to get into the action? How scandalous of you… but, yet… I won't say what is to come, but you may get what you ask for a lot sooner than you think._

_Sukera__ – thank you!_

_Aither__ – I just find it hard to believe that a man will trust his hormones so suddenly. He is attracted to a said woman, but all of his life was spent in the fields with horses. Obviously things are going to get awkward. Buffy just survived one hell of a last stand and right now she's like a leaf floating in the wind. Éomer has given her everything she needs, but now she's about to find out that it won't be enough to satisfy her. What type of "Queen" would she be if all she did was be a token queen, one without love or respect for all people who had been hurt by this war? He knows nothing of love and she knows nothing of freedom and duty, and yet when they begin to "get it", things will simply fall into place. This chapter is pivotal in this role. As someone who has experienced all of this love and more, I am truly touched you find my romance skills to be as keen. I usually quail under the ability to even write a love scene. And yet this story just sort of clicked together at the end. I really do hope you enjoy the end of this story._

_Evilelvengoddess__ – __É__othain__ was introduced back in Chapter 3… he's a rider under Éomer. He was also one that didn't really trust Buffy. I haven't used him since, but felt that I could generally add a name back into the story. In the movies, of course, he played a young boy sentenced to make the last stand at Helm's Deep._

Chapter Summary: Buffy struggles through life in Rohan as Éowyn begins to say goodbye to her only home.

Chapter Warning: I have very few reservations about this chapter, but only because it took a very long time to write. It is one of the best chapters I think Katrina has ever written.

x-x-x

**Chapter 26**

**Their Darkest Hour**

_By Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

Of the long line of riders that set out from Edoras, very few cracked a smile during their first hours away from the capital city. Buffy rode amongst the first riders and as they continued down the hill and into the plains, she could certainly see why Éowyn would christen this place a graveyard. There seemed to be a fog that clung to the houses on the tall hill, spreading like a vast cloud of doom before them. It was certainly going to make their job harder, Buffy thought, her eyes narrowed as she coaxed Sador through the mist.

Even their welcome celebration had been dank. Éomer had just accepted his golden goblet from Éowyn and held it for a moment in silence. The other soldiers lifted their cups to their King before Éomer finally overturned his cup onto the floor, declared that the war was over and said little else. Buffy had bailed after dinner had begun. She reckoned no one would miss her.

She was partially right. Éowyn, bound by her royal blood, was forced to endure more than four hours of silence and dark words. There was no celebration in the air, for few in this Hall had much to celebrate. By the time it was over, she made her way back to her room at Meduseld, but froze before entry. She had something on her mind and she wished to speak it ere she slept. She slid along the hallway, pausing outside one of the doors. Lifting her hand, she knocked gently. There was no sound on the other side. Gently pushing the door in, she slipped into the room and sealed the heavy door behind her, moving the iron rod to lock the door into position.

Inside was an old, dusty bedroom that had once belonged to her mother. There was little light as it was very dark outside and there was no light emanating from the room except for the faint slip of light from beneath the doorway. She moved to the fireplace, bent down and quickly built a small fire. Once the room was filled with the warm light, she brushed her hands against her gown and glanced around. It had been many years since she had come to this room. She heard the haunting sounds of laughter of three excited children as they ran up the narrow, curving staircase to the loft above, leaping down into the bales of hay that once lined the wooden floor where she now stood. Moving to the bed that had been placed there since her cousin's death, she sat down and relaxed against the coarse blanket. As though they were ghosts running through time, she saw the two little boys and her own tiny frame flying up the stairs, laughing about who would be able to reach the bottom first. Éowyn smiled and felt her lips move with the ghost girl's, speaking "A girl is always able to go first". The girl stunned both boys by lifting herself over the rail and flinging her small body into the hay below. As the mirage vanished, Éowyn was aware that something wet had trickled down her cheek. Lifting her fingers, she brushed her tears away.

It hadn't hit her yet that she would be leaving this house for the rest of her life. This was the house of her Fathers. Éomer was standing on his own here and he needed someone to stand beside him. What sort of person was she that she could no longer hold such a responsibility? She suddenly felt chilled as though the warmth had left the room. Standing, she turned to the dying fire and strode from the room, setting the iron peg aside and walking out.

Buffy knew Éowyn was upset the next morning at breakfast. King Éomer chose to dine within his royal bedchamber. Buffy was hardly disappointed. Since she had agreed to keep her distance from the King, she had been avoiding him. Even though two days had already passed, she knew that it would be a lot easier once she was out of Meduseld and far away from Edoras. So when one of the Marshals asked for someone to attend to the west, Buffy didn't hesitate to volunteer. After all, she had spent the most time there. Helm's Deep and the road to Isengard had been heavy on her mind, but she was willing to do what it took to help restore order.

Unfortunately for her, Éowyn was slow to agree. "This is madness!" she cried, marching after Buffy once the younger woman had left the dining hall to return to her room to see to her armor. "Even the heartiest Captain would hesitate to undertake such a chore!"

"Then maybe that hearty Captain will thank me later," Buffy said in an even voice, turning to the taller woman.

"But surely you must—"

"I'm not going to sit here and pine away for something that may never happen," Buffy retorted, her hands flying to her hips, the one telltale sign that she was irritated. "I need to do this, Éowyn. You told me that the people don't know who I am. What kind of Marshal would I be if I didn't at least try?"

Éowyn knew how much Éomer would hurt her if he knew that the woman he cared for had gone off into the tarnished west. "There must be another way," she said softly.

"You've got two minutes to tell me," Buffy replied as they reached her room and she ducked inside, moving around the cramped quarters. "Besides… I'm not doing any good just sitting here waiting for something to happen."

"Éomer would never forgive me if something were to happen to you," Éowyn choked out. Buffy turned to look at her, frowning slightly. "Going to the west, which has been attacked far longer by the treachery of Saruman and the Orcs from the Misty Mountains…"

"It's dangerous," Buffy surmised, finding her chain mail and quickly tossing it on her bed along with a variety of daggers and her relished sword. "I get that. And I'm not doing this for the great King Éomer," she added. "I'm doing it for me."

"Your death will serve no purpose except to quell your support," Éowyn said under her breath. "Please, I beg you."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, her arms full of her armor now as she turned to look at Éowyn over a teetering pair of boots. "How can you ask me to stay when everything I fought so hard to protect doesn't even know I exist?"

Éowyn slowly shook her head. She knew she wanted to explain that she was afraid of being left behind and that she didn't want to spend her last days in Edoras alone. She could only stand aside as Buffy rushed past her. Now someone had to tell Éomer. She just wished it didn't always have to be her.

By the time she caught up with the Slayer, she and the Marshal along with only a handful of other soldiers were gearing their horses. Buffy was already in her full-body armor and Sador was adorned with her leather saddle and the vast array of weapons Buffy liked to carry. Turning, she caught Éowyn's eye and forced a smile onto her face, which Éowyn could not find the heart to return. Taking this as an ominous omen, Buffy gently steered Sador from the stables and took to the open air, the other riders following quickly. Éowyn watched them go, her heart plummeting in her stomach. She knew that it was a great weakness that she could not speak the truth.

Éomer eventually did emerge from his chambers, looking ill-tempered and quite frightening with his deep scowl and his harsh words. Éowyn hung back, even after Éomer had called for her. When she finally came before him, he announced to her that he was headed east. The night before, he spoke, he had given assignments to the other Marshals. She noticed that he never spoke of Buffy, and when she tentatively asked him of it, he announced that she would watch over Edoras for the time being. There was a great air that he didn't want to place her in any danger. Éowyn swallowed the truth and watched as her brother rode off in the opposite direction, desperately wishing she could have told him. Once again, she was alone, standing on the great precipice, the wind sweeping her hair straight from her shoulders.

The ride west hadn't been as dark as Buffy would have hoped. Though there were only a half-dozen of them riding, the men fell into long discussions about a planting season and the season for foals. It took Buffy a few paces to realize they were talking about baby horses. Shrugging off their teasing laughter, they continued on until they came across the first sign that a village had once existed here. Obviously someone had returned to gather the bodies and burn them in one heaping pile. The stench was mostly unbearable as Buffy quickly checked the scattered skeletal remains. It was a disgusting job yet she took it in stride, while the others carefully checked over the burnt-out shells of homes and farmsteads. Everything was twisted in one black heap. Even the earth smelled of death. Lifting her gaze, she saw that the haze clung over their heads, as though protecting this town from the lifesaving sun on the other side. Standing, she kicked a bit of burnt wagon aside and returned to Sador, who seemed keen to leave this former civilization at once.

As they continued on, they passed more and more villages. There was one in which the decomposing remains of both humans and animals had been left helter-skelter around the grassy mounds. Either it meant that the people hadn't yet returned to cremate their dead or else there were none alive from this village that lived to do so. Buffy felt a flashback to burying Potentials as they quietly dug a grave and gently lifted the bodies and laid them within the dirty walls. Once they had burnt the remains – Buffy holding her hand over her nose and mouth the entire time to keep herself from retching – they continued on towards Helm's Deep.

The Keep was filled with many survivors who peered warily over the battle-weary walls. Once they had spent a few hours counting the survivors and their rations, the Marshal returned to one of the upper rooms where Buffy had been resting after their first action-packed days in the plains.

"My lady," he said, knocking on the doorway and bowing his head at the same time.

"Yes?" she asked, turning to face him. Though she had seen nothing but death and destruction these past few days, it hadn't seemed to faze her. Even burying the dead and burning their remains hadn't even caused her to blink, much less run away screaming in terror. The way she had remained rooted to her spot, unwilling to yield until their task was over had convinced the Marshal that this was one woman he could count on.

"I am leaving the other men to tend to the needs here," he explained, entering her room and sealing the door behind him. "I am heading north and I wish for you to go with me."

It was a simple request she knew. But there was something foreboding in the man's tone. "What's up north?" she asked lightly.

"In the north remains a desperate situation," he explained. He had no wish to frighten her, but seeing the resolve on his face seemed to slacken his own determination to withhold the truth. "There is little food and water and many remain hopeless for they know their old life has gone. Many have died and more will die unless we can do—"

"And we will," Buffy said, cutting into his explanation with a sharp retort. The Marshal closed his mouth and watched her eyes blaze over. There was a hard look on her face and she turned away from him again. "We'll do whatever it takes. I'm not going to let him down." By him, the Marshal knew she spoke of the King. "This is what we have been chosen to do."

"Only you can speak of being chosen," the Marshal replied bitterly. "I was appointed."

"You were chosen," she said, turning to him and smiling. "Have you seen your family?"

"My family? They are well in Edoras and have been given the best of provisions and—"

"Then you know what we have to face," she said, turning from the window and stepping towards him. "I've never seen anything like this before. I watched this place explode and it doesn't seem real. But these people are. They don't know anything about what's happened except that they have paid again and again for the incompetence of their former King." Before the Marshal could interject, she held up a hand and adopted a soothing tone. "I know you cared for Théoden. I wouldn't be here if I didn't myself. But these people suffered his foolishness the most and until they have someone they can count on, they will be a threat to the security of a new Rohan."

"They will never have the lives they once had," the Marshal argued.

"No," Buffy said, a gentleness curving her lips. "But maybe they can find it within themselves to fight for a new one."

"What can you offer them… food, water, shelter?"

"Hope."

There was that word again. It had seemed to forsake these lands. There was no hope left. There was nothing there, nothing tangible to even hold onto. And here was this woman, an outsider, willing to fight for what did not exist.

He let out a loud scoff, which seemed to surprise her. "I think you will find that hope is the one thing these people do not have."

"You mean, they don't have it yet," she replied, smiling again.

Where in Arda did she get these ideas from? "Did you wish to hunt down the Orcs that have scattered to the mountains and slaughter them before the survivors?" he asked.

She stared at him a moment before she shook her head, bringing up her hand to cover her mouth. From where he stood, he could hear her snickering. "You have a lot to learn about morale," she finally said with a heavy sigh. "No… what was the first thing you learned about planting?"

"The soil needs to be well irrigated and fertilized," he replied automatically, his forefathers coming from the distant farmlands to the east.

"There's an old tale from my world that says something about ash and soot being the best thing to help do something-or-other to the soil," she said in a matter-of-fact way, lifting up a hand and showing him the few specks of ash on the dusty palm. "There was a lot of this left back there." She didn't dare say that this 'old tale' was nothing more than a warning that Willow had printed up of things not to do... such as use ashes from cremations to plant houseplants.

The man balked at the ashes and quickly slapped her hand away. "Are you mad? Do you actually wish to use our dead to plant anew?"

"What greater honor is there?" she asked, her tone adopting a decisive snap. "Their deaths don't have to be mourned until you can't cry anymore. Everything has to have a purpose… even the land and things that are part of it." A sudden smile fell across her face. "A friend taught me that once… that the earth can be our greatest power. And it's not just the dead… it's the wood and the grass and the houses and the goats and whatever else you people had in your villages."

"I certainly hope your _friend _could gather the ashes of the dead to use for growing things," the Marshal sighed.

"What choice do we have?" she asked sharply. "You said people are starving. I'm offering a way to actually grow stuff so they don't start gnawing on each other. Unless you want to be known as the race of carnivores and I'm really hoping you're not one of those ugly Uruk things, this is how we have to start."

"By growing our dead?"

She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and stomped past him, bursting out the door. A few curious bystanders quickly backed away, seeing the look on her face. "If you have a better idea, I'm listening. If not, well… I'll see you on your horse in one hour."

King Éomer was going to have to compensate him greatly for this, he thought heavily as he followed her out the door, the heavy object slamming behind him. Whatever plan was brewing in her mind, he hoped it would work: they were running out of time.

x-x-x

"My Lady Éowyn?"

"Yes?"

Éowyn turned from her position in the forbidden room to see a young hand standing in the doorway. "There are horses approaching, my Lady. They carry a banner unlike any I have ever seen."

Éowyn set her scrolls aside and rose to her feet. In the distance, she could hear a horn. She couldn't decipher it, but she definitely knew it wasn't foe. "Tell the guards at the gate to let them in. And send word to the King. He was to arrive back this eve."

"Yes, Lady," the hand said and closed the door on his way out. Éowyn glanced around the room, which she had been adding a few personal touches to. For one, the scrolls were once long letters written from her mother to her father. She enjoyed reading them when she was younger, but now they touched her in a far different way. Her mother had loved her father very much and in every stroke of the quill she saw the adoration that she had once held. It was how Éowyn often felt about Faramir and only wished they could keep such correspondence. She missed him and it was beginning to show. For the past few days, she had smiled seldom and had been keeping to this room. When she had received word that morning that Éomer was returning from a successful ride to the east, she felt her heart start to pound. Soon the truth would be out that his faithful advisor had gone to the west and they had yet to hear from any of those soldiers.

She quickly smoothed her gown and her hair before making her way to the back doors and sweeping onto the veranda to look at the delegation now making its way through the streets of Edoras. This time she heard the horn and smiled. These were the fairest and most beautiful beings of them all. These were the Elves.

Éowyn moved through Meduseld until she reached the front doors and quickly stepped outside to greet these beings. She was not surprised to see that Elladan and Elrohir were dismounting first and quickly approached her. "Lady of Rohan," Elladan said, inclining his head. "We bid you welcome the house of Elrond."

A taller figure in the back atop a grey horse nodded slightly, as though approving this rather formal greeting.

"Welcome from the house of my fathers," Éowyn said, finding that a rare smile had graced her pale face. "I will grant you rest and stores if you will remain in Edoras until morning. The King is expected to return ere nightfall."

"What of Merilin?" Elrohir asked, a deep curiosity in his voice.

"She is known to us as Buffy," Éowyn replied in a stiff tone. "She is on an errand. She will return when her task is complete."

"You must forgive my brothers," said a soft, fruity tone as a third figure stepped forward on a smaller horse. Lifting a veil of a deep shade of lavender, she turned grey eyes to Éowyn and smiled. And Éowyn was finally able to meet her once-rival in Aragorn's affections. "Their lack of manners not forthcoming, we will greatly accept rest and provisions, if you will provide them."

"I shall," Éowyn said, and as Arwen nodded and turned, beckoning another rider forward.

"The house of Elrond thanks you," said a deep masculine voice, one that could only come from Elrond himself. Éowyn felt a slight flush come to her cheeks and this time, she was the one who bowed her head as the great Elven lord laid his eyes upon her. "Your hospitality is most welcome." Turning, he signaled to Elrohir, who lifted his fair arm and others rode forward, dismounted, and began filing past Éowyn, one by one, into Meduseld. At last, only Elrond and Arwen remained.

Elrond gave his daughter a knowing smile before sweeping indoors, leaving only a scattering of Elvish horses and bewildered stable hands behind.

"Where is your final destination?" Éowyn asked as the guards secured the door. Both women turned to walk towards a warm pit of fire, where Arwen extended her hands. Éowyn took notice for the first time that they were bruised and tarnished.

There was a pause, and then "Minas Tirith," she said quietly. "We have come to welcome a King."

"And you shall," Éowyn said, glancing at her own white, unblemished hands. "You can stay as long as you need."

"There are many who would envy your position to hold court over so many Eldar," Arwen said, smiling. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have passed into your halls and you barely took notice."

"I have never seen them," Éowyn said honestly. "Buffy once spoke of meeting them."

There was another long pause, and then, "I must meet her when the time is right," Arwen said, gently removing her long traveling cloak, revealing a multi-layered gown made from the finest materials in the most perfect shade of violet.

Éowyn had the household staff prepare a large feast for the Elvish guests, which included the finest fruits, vegetables and a roasted swine. They had just sat down for dinner when a hand arrived to tell her that the King had returned and was calling for both her and Buffy. She excused herself and left quickly. Éomer met her in the front hall, looking quite pleased to see her. "It seems that we have guests," he said curtly.

"Yes, I know," Éowyn said dryly, massaging her temples. "The Lady Arwen has arrived and with her she has brought her escort."

Éomer wore a knowing smile. "Buffy has felt the same way about the Elves, calling them pointy-eared brown-nosers."

Éowyn couldn't help but smile. "She has a way with them," she mused quietly.

"Where is she?" Éomer asked, glancing around the dim hallway. "I have missed her and wished for her company at this late hour."

Éowyn was slightly surprised by this. He had only been gone for a little over a week… he surely missed his Counsel after such a short time? "She is not here," she said, opting to finally tell him the truth.

Éomer looked puzzled as he glanced at Éowyn. "Where is she?" he asked quietly, though his voice suggested his impatience. "Was she not to guard Meduseld and the halls within?"

"You never gave her a task to see to," Éowyn reminded him. "It is my thought that you refused to let her work, keeping her under your guard as well as the guard of others. She has taken your insolence and has gone into the west."

Éomer's look changed from exhaustion to anger in less than a second. His jaw tightened as he turned on his sister. "What say you?"

"She took to the west with your Third Marshal," Éowyn replied in a level tone. "They rode the morn you left for the Eastfold. You cannot deny her the freedoms you so promised," she continued, watching as he began to pace back and forth. "Her loyalty to you has a price."

"Never would I ask her to pay for it," Éomer growled.

"You may not have intentionally asked her to pay," Éowyn snapped.

"She has nothing to prove to me," Éomer exclaimed, his voice echoing in the hallway about them. "She has given me all I have asked of her. She has denied me nothing. What else has she to prove?"

"She may have little to prove to you, brother," Éowyn explained, dropping her voice as she saw that there were people huddled in the shadows away from their rising voices. "But that does not mean she has nothing to prove to the people. She does this not for you, but for herself solely."

Éomer paused, looking rather distraught. "I would not have asked her to do such a thing," he admitted.

"She knew that," Éowyn consoled him. "But how can she love you when none know her deeds? How can she belong to a land that calls her stranger? And how dare you deny a woman of her power from helping the country, the land you love? What kind of love would that be?"

"I must go to her," Éomer said, starting out at once. "I will summon my men. We will leave at dawn."

"Nay," Éowyn replied. Éomer turned to look at her, surprised. "You must leave her to this task. This is their darkest hour, brother. If their King were to charge and doubt the loyalty of one he holds most dear, what else have they left?"

"I understand," Éomer said darkly. "But I will not leave her to perish in the west like some untamed horseman."

"In case you have forgotten," Éowyn said with a smile, "she is hardly powerless."

Éomer smiled then, though it was barely recognizable in the dim light. "Our guests," he replied at last, "are waiting."

Éowyn nodded and gestured towards the great dining hall. Éomer set off at once. Inside, the Elves rose and stared at him. He nodded and took his seat at the head of the table, very near the lady Galadriel whom he had insulted months before. He gave her a curt look before taking his meal. He barely ate three bites before he stood and left again. Apparently the thought of dining with a group of taller, fairer beings was not appetizing to him.

And Éowyn blamed him not one bit. She began to choke out a hasty explanation for her brother's departure, but before she could even think of one, Elladan spoke up. "He misses the one whom he loves."

Éowyn snapped her jaw shut and turned to regard the Elf coolly. "I reckon you speak of his land," she said in a woolly tone, stabbing her peapod with a fork.

"No," Elrohir said, the wisdom showing far beyond his years. "My brother speaks of the one you call Buffy. Perhaps your people are as blind as the rest of this world seems. Did you not see how he kept glancing to his left, as though hoping his great advisor were by his side? As a growing young man, he needs his provisions," the Elf continued, gesturing towards the still-loaded table, groaning beneath six different dishes. "As he seemed to have neither, the only conclusion would be that he is missing what he no longer possesses."

This word sent a chill down Éowyn's spine. Not only did Elladan insinuate that Éomer loved Buffy, but his twin was suggesting that Éomer was missing something he didn't have anymore. Swallowing hard, Éowyn reached for her goblet, held it up silently, and downed every last drop of wine. For some reason, she seemed to need it now, more than ever.

x-x-x

"Is this it?"

Buffy glanced up from a large pile of smelly ashes that had been unceremoniously piled in a tiny wagon. Tiny flies swarmed around the remains and Buffy waved a hand in front of her nose. In a smaller wagon next to it were the remains of rock-hard bread and potatoes that looked months past their prime. And yet these were the only provisions that Helm's Deep had allowed.

"We must go," the Marshal said, riding up to her at once. Buffy turned from the two young men who had brought her the two wagons and nodded, quickly mounting Sador, who moved quickly ahead as to get away from the foul-smelling dirt. "There is unrest to the north. We must hurry, for word has spoken that a few have already died."

"Let's go," she said, before turning to the two young boys driving the wagons with what looked like tiny donkeys. "Stay behind. If you need help, ask for the soldiers from the Keep. They'll help you if you ask for it." Turning, she sped off after the Marshal, who had set off at a canter.

It took them only a day's long ride to reach the first settlement. Their first hint had been the billowing black smoke from the burning tents. There were only a few hundred people dressed in barely-habitable clothing but the rest were undressed save for worn rags covering their most private areas. They were gathered near what appeared to be the center of their village as two young men circled one another. One carried a bloodied sword, the other a large hand-made club. They were both speaking a language Buffy didn't know, but she knew enough of their body language that she was needed immediately. Before the Marshal could decipher the situation, Buffy was dismounting Sador and launching herself into the crowd.

"Hey!" she shouted, only to be pushed back by the angry mob. "Hey… stop that! Quit it! STOP!"

At her last command, there was dead silence as hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to look at the young woman bursting through two thick, burly men. She was wearing the signature armor of the Rohirrim and her hand was pressed at the hilt of her sword against her hip.

"What is this?" she asked in disgust, glancing at the few mauled bodies lying heaped in the center. The two men seemed to be moving around the few standalone figures. The entire scene was enough to make Buffy sick, but she refused to give up because of a weak stomach.

"Who are you, woman?" a cold voice asked. A tall man and a smaller woman had extracted themselves from the mob. The woman was gaunt, with a bony face and hands, two small children dragged behind her. The old man had a long, bushy red beard and long hair that was neatly gathered in a ponytail at his neck. They were both wearing rags that were so filthy and blood-matted that she couldn't tell where the material ended and their flesh began.

"A Rider of Rohan," Buffy replied. "I'm Buffy. And you are…?"

"What concern would a Rider have of the company of the west?" the woman hissed, her voice raspy, like a snake's venomous whisper.

"Would you rather not know the war is over?" Buffy asked haughtily. "The fighting is done, Sauron has lost, and Rohan is free."

"This is our freedom," the man bellowed, charging at her. She blinked, her hand circling her sword to draw it out dare he attack, but instead he collapsed at her feet, spilling the contents of his arms at her feet. She recoiled at the number of large, rubbery maggots now crawling on her well-worn boots. "This is what we have paid. Our blood whets this land and that is something no Rider can take away."

"You want me to take away your pain?" she asked, meeting his gaze. "It's easy. I can't." Turning, she saw the two men who had been fighting snarling at one another. "But I will say this. I can't take back what Saruman and his idiots have done to you. Only you can choose what comes next. If you want to kill each other, that's great. Be my guest and I won't waste my time. But if you're willing to actually work for a new Rohan… I'm the person that you want to know. And that's a promise."

"Your words have no meaning here," the woman said shrilly. "You cannot bring us hope."

"If you don't have hope, you have nothing left to hold onto," Buffy said calmly, meeting her eye. "And believe me when I say I know what that's like. All you have left is what's here." She lifted her hand to cover her heart. "Even then, you can't ever count on it. All you can do is your best. I'm willing to help you."

The Marshal, having claimed the two carts, rode up quickly, out of breath. "Lower your arms," he snapped, gesturing at the two men, who were still glowering at one another.

"You should listen to him before I have to get angry," Buffy said, turning her head slightly so the men behind her could hear her. When they didn't listen, she turned and a few seconds later a figure was lying on his back, the tip of her sword resting beneath his chin. "This isn't marginally how I can get," she said, pressing her foot harder down onto his chest. She heard his protruding ribs protest against the pressure from her foot, but she refused to give up. "If I let you go, do you promise you won't kill this man?"

"I promise you nothing," the man spat out, grinning at her. He had no teeth.

"I don't want to kill you," she said, her tone very level. "But you should realize that I killed a hell of a lot of Orcs and trolls in my time."

"She is rather good at it," the Marshal admitted. "You would be wise to listen."

"She will not kill," the man said, still grinning that silly toothless grin. "She does not have that power."

Buffy, while managing her stronghold over the struggling man beneath her foot and tip of her sword, brought out her dagger and flung it towards a pair of males. They leapt aside, glancing at the wiggling blade in horror. It was lodged an inch from their heads in a wooden beam from a billowing tent. "You don't even know me," she said in a low voice, turning back to the man before pulling her sword away. Gently moving her foot from his chest, she bent down, took his arm and dragged him upright. "If you use your sword again to attack this man, I will end you, and that's a promise." Turning, she sheathed her sword. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"We have no food or water, if you could not see," the woman said angrily, pushing the stunned man aside. "Our children are starving, we have little protection and the enemy has not left our doorstep. There have been nightly raids from the Wargs."

"We have brought what little provisions we could," the Marshal said, as the cart was wheeled up. Seeing the old legumes and potatoes inside, the people suddenly gasped. "And Buffy believes that with this nutritional soil you will be able to once again grow your own staples."

"But the water—" an older man begged through cracked, bleeding lips. "It has been poisoned by Saruman."

"Then we'll have to improvise," Buffy said, walking over to where the creek was dumping vast amounts of grayish water into a large pond. "Isengard is less than a day's ride." She turned towards the Marshal. "If the Ents are still stationed there, maybe they can help."

"You talk to trees, you carry knives," the woman said, waving an impatient hand, "but yet your words mean nothing."

"Where I come from, my word meant everything," Buffy said calmly. "And you have my promise that I won't leave here until I do what I can, as a Captain under King Éomer."

"A Captain he sent?" the red-haired man asked, stumbling towards her. "A Captain?"

"And a Marshal," Buffy said, turning to acknowledge the man still on horseback. "You should feel fortunate. But for now, let's spread this out before it dries."

"It has a foul stench," the woman muttered, backing away.

"I will help," came a small voice. Buffy watched as a familiar small girl stepped from a small crowd of children. Slowly, a few others came forward, as though frightened Buffy would fling knives at them, too. "How can I help?"

"Here," Buffy said, taking the small sack of rocks from the girl's outstretched hands and pulling her closer. "You're hurt."

"It is not as bad as it is," the girl said with extraordinary boldness, meeting Buffy's eyes. "I wish to help."

"As do we," a small boy said, gesturing to a few others.

"What would your parents have to say about this?" the Marshal asked, frowning.

"They're dead," the girl said sadly.

"They're orphans," a second woman spoke up, stepping forward. "There are a few in this village, but more to the west, nearest Isengard. Their parents were murdered before their very eyes, but we could only save so many."

"Of course," Buffy said, turning back to the group of about ten children, all who gazed at her with somewhat dazed expressions. "Well, here."

After the first few days, the food was now gone and the water, though still poisonous, was used to scrub as much as they could. The orphans' injuries were all taken care of, and more provisions soon came from the Keep, as did another group of soldiers under the Lieutenant who had served under Buffy's supervision during the Black Night. Their reunion was warm and friendly as they embraced as old friends, turning to see to the others. The young girl rarely left Buffy's side, always following with her, her left arm in a linen sling since her shoulder had been dislocated. The Marshal had volunteered to work on shelter, leaving Buffy to work on the many other problems. It was not easy work, and there were many fights and disagreements in the beginning. But by her second week, Buffy felt much more relaxed around these newest people. These people had lost more than everything, but she refused to let them lose their identity, which they had been very close to losing.

This was the closest thing they had to a second chance.

x-x-x

Éowyn had just closed the front doors when Éomer appeared out of the shadows. "It appears as though our guests have finally departed," he said in a dark voice.

Éowyn massaged her temples as she leant against the door. "They have left for Gondor, yes," she agreed, yawning slightly. "You should have been the one to say the fondest farewell."

"I have no need to be amongst those beings," Éomer said, sending a dark look at the door as though it too had insulted him.

Éowyn knew that he was worried about Buffy. It had been two weeks since Buffy had left and more, and there had been absolutely no word from any of the six soldiers that had gone into the west. "What have we left to prepare ere you return to Gondor?"

"I must summon all of Rohan to come to their lord's final resting place," Éomer replied stoutly. "I will leave in a few weeks' time to bring our fallen King and return him to his resting place."

"The Elves were adamant about seeing her," Éowyn said after a long pause. "They seemed to think she would rather enjoy traveling with them rather than spending time amongst her own."

"You know as well as I that we are not of her own," Éomer said in a soft tone. "I would never force that upon her."

"She believes so," Éowyn said. "You have forced nothing upon her."

"I do wish she was back," Éomer said, glancing around them, as though hoping she would just spring out of the woodwork. "I do miss her."

"She will return when she feels that she has done all she can," Éowyn said with a smile. "And songs of deeds will soon spread. Did you not hear those twin Elves singing of her glorious near-death in battle to those children last night?"

"I heard," Éomer said quietly. "It has made me believe that she is more than I thought she was. She has become more to me than a mere Counsel and my Captain."

"She is your Captain," Éowyn replied, her smile widening. "My brother, she will do anything for you. All you have to do is ask it of her."

"I cannot ask her to leave her duty," Éomer replied. "What sort of commander would I be? But that Elf spoke the truth of her great deeds. Word of her heroism will spread and many will accept that this stranger is now amongst her own. She belongs here."

"She belongs with you," Éowyn said, dropping her hand on Éomer's shoulder. "I only hope you realize it before she ne'er returns." Turning, she left the room, leaving her brother in stunned silence.

x-x-x

"I know that this is really unnecessary," Buffy said, brushing her grime-coated hands on her trousers, "but wouldn't this be better suited if planted at night?"

"Sunlight nourishes much of what we grow," said the young man, bending down to add another heaping pile of the foul-smelling dirt to her neat mound. "Have you no planters where you hail?"

"No," she said. She didn't know how to explain grocery stores or Wal-Mart or anything like that. All she could do was disagree and leave it at that. She felt exhausted as she rose to her feet, brushing a bit of smudged dirt onto her nose.

"My lady!"

It was the Lieutenant, flagging her down from near the outside of the village. She rose to her feet, beckoned the boy to continue on and made her way towards the soldier, who was breathing hard and gesturing wildly towards the outer hills. "What is it?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

"King Éomer rides for this village," he panted. "He has sent word that he wishes to speak with you!"

"Oh," she said, shrugging as she glanced back at the village. Little had changed since she had begun this project. There were others started and since this village seemed to have doubled in size, they had been working hard to sustain what they could. So far, using the ashes from the burnt villages to the east had proven fruitful. Their first few seedlings were starting to sprout.

"Buffy?" a small voice asked. A tiny hand tucked inside hers and pulled her slightly to the left. Turning, she saw the little girl, who called herself Elena, blinking at her.

"It's okay," she said, turning to pat the girl on the shoulder. Turning to the Lieutenant, she told him that she understood before he swept off. Buffy sighed and quickly began cleaning up in the bad water. As the ground thundered with the sounds of hooves, people quickly glanced up from their tasks and rose, gathering around the edge of the village as Éomer appeared, surrounded by his personal guard. Buffy stepped forward, Elena a few steps behind her. Turning, she gave the girl an encouraging smile before stepping forward.

Instead of the open hostility they had shown towards her and Éomer's Third Marshal, these people were now curious. Buffy had been ensuring them over and over again that Éomer had their very best interests at heart. The proof was here in this visitation. "Hello," she said quietly by way of greeting.

Éomer stared openly at her dirty clothes and at the smudged grime on her face and arms. She had obviously been hard at work, but he was convinced he was doing the right thing in being here. Dismounting, he touched her shoulder before stepping around her. Facing a hundred curious faces, he came forward. She lowered her gaze and turned to face him. He was stepping towards them, stopping only to see Elena, who was gazing at him with such skepticism in her eyes that he smiled. Buffy felt a tingle in her spine, but forced it away. This was no time to play the romantic Slayer. It was time to play the responsible one.

After giving Éomer a tour of their rather paltry village, they soon reached a narrow area where, at last, he felt they could be alone. "I have come to summon all to return to Edoras for the funeral of their fallen King," he said in a low voice.

"Okay," she said simply.

"I wish for you to return to Minas Tirith with my guard," he said, gesturing to the men on horseback who now surrounded the village.

"You just want to get me alone," she said, teasingly.

"I have missed you," he said quietly.

The look on her face tightened and she looked away. "Don't say that."

"I mean you no disrespect."

"Of course you don't," she said, turning to face him. "But I promised I would keep my distance so you could rule this great land."

"I would not wish for you to break your promise," he replied, "but even the Elves speak of your valor and wish for you to dwell amongst them. To know that you are quite a prize…"

"I am no one's prize," she said coldly, her eyes darkening. "I'm the Slayer. I kill for a living."

"Would you call this killing?" he asked casually, gesturing towards the small amount of progress they had made.

"No," she said quietly. "I call this rebuilding."

He leaned forward and took her dirt-covered hands into his. "I would call that progress."

Her eyes softened slightly as she gazed up at him. "People are watching," she said softly.

"Somehow I no longer care," he replied. "They will soon hear of your tales of valor. They will also hear of this. You have gone to them in their darkest hour and you did not turn your back to them. For this… someday you will be rewarded."

"But not today," she said, gently detaching her hands from his. "I'm not done yet."

"I never thought that you were."

"So… Gondor, eh? When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow at dawn, should these people spare you." He noticed a young child gazing questioningly at him. "Who is that child?"

"Her name is Elena, and she has been my little shadow since I got here," Buffy said as they moved back into the dying light. "You should spend some time here and get to know these people and let them see the real you. Let them see the King I know you are."

It was in this moment, as he gazed into her blazing eyes, that he knew for the first time what this love truly was.

x-x-x

Éowyn quietly slipped out of her hammock, gazing down at the bloody sunrise. She had spent yet another long night in her mother's old bedroom. Moving towards the curving stairs, she stopped halfway down before collapsing. She had no will yet to leave this place, but Éomer had already left. He was going to the West to collect his Captain and summon the other people to return for Théoden's funeral. After that, she thought, her stomach tightening, she would no longer be of Rohan.

This place was an heirloom, she thought, gazing around. But it shouldn't go to waste.

She finally moved from the room and to the veranda. Already the hot summer sun was warming the daylight, a slight haze hovering above their heads. The air was fresh with a clear breeze and with it came a new feeling, a renewed sense of hope.

Hope was kindled in Rohan once again.

x-x-x

In the next chapter, Éomer and Buffy return to Minas Tirith where Buffy is reunited with her mentor. And, at long last, a former King begins his journey home.


	27. The Promise

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: This is the part where I thank all of you for reading. I know that a great many of you probably do glance at this little priceless jewel of ours. We do appreciate it, really. And if either of us could bake worth a damn, you'd all get warm sugar cookies with sprinkles! Alas, this journey comes to an end and this has been an emotional roller-coaster ride for us. I really wish we could show you our original ending for this story, because almost none of it exists anymore, but instead we'll share our endless amount of gratitude. Thank you for taking the time to read… we hope you enjoy the show!

_Sukera__ – well, thank you._

_Sparky24 – the little shadow so reminds us of a dear member of our little writing club... she had to be written in. She will not be going to Gondor, but she will be in Rohan. As for her being a maid in waiting, well… not precisely. And thank you for your compliments. _

_Evilelvengoddess__ – Thank you. _

_XinnLajgin__ – Just out of curiosity, where did your screen-name come from? That almost sounds Japanese, too! Thank you for your compliments, but I do have to make two tiny comments. One, Buffy isn't married. And two, there is just a little more ass kicking to be had… at least, in this story._

_Spd__ – oddly enough, we never considered a pairing like this, either. It just sort of developed a mind of its own. We can thank Katrina for that little ditty. _

_General Mac – sadly enough, we're running out of chapters to give you!_

_Cat – thank you! _

_Granddancer__ – all righty then._

_AngelBuffyFluffin__ – why, thank you so very much!_

Chapter Summary: The return to Gondor is just the beginning of an emotional journey for one nation to say goodbye to their fallen heroes.

Chapter Warning: As this story comes to an end (thirty lovely chapters with an actual epilogue ending), there is little of the book left that we wished to pursue. There is actually one more chapter, but we reserved that for the last. This chapter concerns the return to Gondor, and if you might consider this a two-part chapter, the next chapter is about the return back from Gondor. Sorry for the delay, but real life has been a bit hectic as of late, with both of us now back in school and because we both devote time to school and family the internet has become less of a priority. I hope to have this story posted by the end of September or beginning of October, sometime before it marks its one-year anniversary. Katrina's excuse is that she has hidden her face from the world due to far too many hurricane jokes.

x-x-x

**Chapter 27**

**The Promise**

_By Alyson Kay_

x-x-x

By the time evening had come, Buffy would have given anything for an Orc to slay, a dragon to kick the crap out of or even a group of evil men she could taunt. It had taken all of her patience to ride in silence and endure forced conversation about the scarred landscape. But the fact was she felt like baggage being dragged from one side of the country to another. And it didn't help that he was perfectly content on ignoring the growing tension that by the time they stopped to rest the horses it was thick enough to slice with a sword. It would have helped if Buffy had had the said sword.

She only wished she had someone to talk to. Éomer's conversation skills were seriously lacking, and she had no intentions of breaking the silence pack between them.

He had started the fire as she went off to tether Sador. As she returned, she dropped her single bag and nearly collapsed on the ground, wincing as her sore rear hit the hard earth. Even after all she had been through, she wasn't used to riding on horses. It was going to hurt tomorrow when she got back in the saddle again.

Éomer watched quietly as she shifted uncomfortably on the ground, digging through her sack. He wanted to say something to her, but he wasn't sure where to start. He had a feeling that she was avoiding conversation at all cost, which was probably the reason for her dramatics. There was also the issue that he wasn't a conversationalist to begin with and she had a way with words that tended to confuse him. After a few moments of prolonged searching, he was beginning to wonder what she was looking for. She certainly couldn't hold this up until dawn and after a few more moments of pushing aside the few belongings she had, she threw the bag angrily away from her before settling down.

"Will you stop that?" she asked irritably. She was not looking at him, but apparently she knew he was gazing at her.

"I will," he said, turning back to stare at the flames and give the burning bits of wood a good prod with his stick.

There was silence on her end, until "Is there dinner?"

He turned to his own pack and started pulling out the essentials. As he set the items out, he could feel the warmth of her gaze on him. If only things could get more awkward, he thought as he turned and handed her the pan. There was a pack of dried grains and his own canteen of water. As he turned back to his pack, he could hear her pick up the pot. The next thing he knew, he felt the cold object glide off of his armor and fall onto the hard ground with a solid clang.

"Did you expect me to know how to use this?" she asked incredulously as their gaze met. He looked angry and she looked stunned. "I burn water."

"There was no need for this show of anger," he said in a snippy tone, taking the pan and setting it upon a rock.

"Well, if you hadn't been clearly ignoring the fact that I'm _right _here," she snapped, her tone rising. It was clearly obvious to them both that she was picking this fight from boredom. He let her. "And I know I told you I can't cook. You knew that before you even knew me."

"Perhaps so," he said, adding water to the pan and setting it near the fire upon a flat stone, "but that does not excuse you throwing objects around out of temper."

"I'm just… so sick of this," she said after a long pause. "I'm just trying to do what I can, and does it work? No. I'm just trying to do something with my life because obviously I can't die in battle and it seems we've run out of battles for me to run into and I…"

She stopped and slapped her knees in frustration. Shaking her head as though frustrated from her outburst, she stood up and meandered into the darkness. Only when she was out of sight did he hear her heavy sigh.

"You are not alone," he said after a long moment, watching as the water in his small, dented pot began to boil. That little pot had endured so much in the past few years, he thought, leaning over to add the grain.

"I can still hear you," she grumbled some distance behind him. "I may the blonde and all, but I have perfect reception."

"Then perhaps you would care to sit and rest," he said, turning to shout into the darkness, knowing full well it would agitate her. "You will need your strength in days to come."

He waited for her to patiently return. After a few seconds though, he glanced up and rose, staring out into the dark abyss. Even though his eyesight was no where near as acute as hers, he saw her silhouette only a few feet away and her head was tipped back.

"God," she was saying in a hushed tone, her eyes seemingly entranced to the stars above. "Couldn't even get a view like this if you paid for it."

His eyes flickered upwards and took in the thousands of glowing orbs that just radiated silvery light around them. "My father once said that those of the past watch over us and when our time comes to leave this world we go to the next, up there."

She let out a long slow breath and nodded. "Your father was wise," she said simply. "But all I see when I look up there are the people who screwed my life over. Again."

He just didn't understand her. One moment she was pleased to be in Rohan, eager to be in his service and do what she could to put together a country broken through decades of war. And then there were these moments where he thought he could finally see through the guise of 'Merilin' who this woman really was. She was a lost soul in his eyes in this moment. "You should look closer," he said boldly. "There are many possibilities amongst the stars. Even the brightest was once living, destined to defeat the greatest evil this world had ever faced. Without the actions of countless, the world would be left in darkness."

He watched as she tipped her face upwards again. "I just feel so small, like nothing I can do would make a difference," she countered.

"Maybe not to those who do not know you," he replied, "but to those you saved or fought for… they remember. The stars know all and miss nothing. They have seen what you are and what you have it in you to become."

"What could I possibly become?" She sounded amused now.

"What more could you ask for?" he asked. "If it is death in battle you seek, there will always be another war. There will always be need for your sword. But there are a great many things you can do while you wait for the darkness to return." He paused. "I watched as you embraced a child who pleaded with you not to go 'ere you never return. Such loyalty to the very small inspires hope to those who have had none. You may think your deeds insignificant but in the end, I would hope they give you pride."

Turning, he left her to her musings as he returned to the fire, bending down and carefully stirring some of the boiled grain into a small clay dish. "Come," he said, raising his tone. "Your dinner is waiting."

Slowly, she turned away from her spot and walked back, accepting her bowl with hearty gusto. He watched as she ate and drank, feeling melancholy. "You can quit with the staring," she admonished him, not taking her eyes from her dish.

"There is little else to look at," he replied. He knew that he was acting rather un-King-like, but she was behaving outright juvenile. He assumed that she was having a bad day, because they all suffered those days where they'd rather feed their counterparts to wargs, but this was something different, he sensed.

"The fire is always pretty," she returned in a mock-cheery tone. After a moment, she swallowed the rest of her meal and set the bowl aside. "I think things just got really awkward here and I really don't know…"

"They did," he confirmed, not surprised that she had picked up on this rather obvious fact.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I just expected there to be guards or… or someone else. Spending time with you is always a great… well. I'm finally beginning to understand your logic, but… I did promise myself that I would stay away from you personally, and this isn't helping."

He recalled Éowyn's words to him and shook his head slightly, returning his gaze to the dancing flames. "I should never have permitted this," he growled.

This time, she turned to him, her eyes questioning. "Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked sharply. "You wanted to be the King of a war-torn nation, but personal life always comes second. I get that. It was my sacred duty, or whatever the hell my slaying was. Because in order to do what you need to do for your people, the choice has to be made by you. You're alone whether you want to be or not."

"This was not what I wanted," he retorted. "Had the choice been my own, I would have kept you at my side instead of pushing you away."

There was a small pause before she shook her head sadly. "You didn't have to push that hard."

An awkward silence followed as Buffy shrugged and walked away. He wanted to call out to her, but he had no idea where he'd even begin to explain what was on his mind now.

x-x-x

Éowyn was pleasantly surprised when Buffy and King Éomer returned a day ahead of schedule. Most of his guards were still gathering in the valley, preparing for a departure the next morning. When they came, they weren't speaking to one another. Buffy walked past her into Meduseld without a second glance and after a brief greeting and a heavy sigh, Éomer followed behind her.

Some of the glow Éowyn had been feeling was vanquished as a flame. She had hoped that they would have settled their differences during their short time together, but apparently they had not. She disappeared inside Meduseld to find Buffy.

The Slayer was inside her room, undressing. Éowyn waited until Buffy had pulled off her armor and her riding clothes before slipping into a shift and preparing for a long, hot scouring.

"I know you're there," Buffy called cheerfully as she smoothed back her golden hair. "You can't really hide."

Éowyn smiled as she stepped inside the room. Buffy was standing there with a towel and soap in one arm and a cloak in the other. "I guess there is no way to fool you."

"Nothing I can think of anyway," Buffy replied, slipping past Éowyn and moving into the room where a basin full of hot water was kept.

"What happened out there?" Éowyn asked, as this was the question most on her mind.

"Nothing," Buffy said quietly as she undressed and slipped into the warm basin. Ducking her head under the blissfully warm water, she sighed as she resurfaced. "Absolutely nothing."

"I would have that… but you care for him," Éowyn protested from her spot on the other side of the room.

"I don't think that's all that matters anymore," Buffy replied, lifting one arm and watching as droplets of water ran down the skin. "There's bigger things at stake here than what either of us feel." She tipped her head against the basin. "I think you know how that feels."

"I have a slight idea," Éowyn replied. She sounded far away. "I will leave you be."

Buffy listened as the door closed quietly before she sank underneath the water.

Éowyn moved to the room that she considered one of her favorites. The throne room looked ever the same, despite the fact that once again the King was not present. She found him down in the stores, a great tray in the arms of his aid, stacked triple high with dishes and plates. Seeing the amused expression on his sister's face, he shrugged and motioned for the aid to leave. He did, and with him he took the tray. "I have just been to see your dear captain," she said in a teasing voice as she sat at the table. Taking what little stores remained of the potatoes inside the pantry, he joined her.

"Was she not in the best of moods?" he asked her grudgingly.

"She spoke of better times," Éowyn admitted. There was a silence until she added, "you should tell her how you feel 'ere you lose her."

"Lose her to whom? The Elves? The Dwarves?"

"I would worry first about the Elves," Éowyn said, smirking as she rose. "Gandalf favors her above most others. It would be wise to trust that the Elves will favor her as well."

"They do not feel for her as we do," Éomer muttered. "They would use her for her skill and little else."

"This is why the truth must be known. You must promise me that you will speak with her and let her know. She will not stay if she believes she has nothing here."

He shook his head and rose. "I fear it is far too late for that, sister," he replied as he left the kitchen. "I believe she already knows."

She watched as he left, feeling melancholy. These were two people she loved greatly in the world and there was something between them, something tangible. It was only a matter of time before such a beautiful thing began to fade.

These thoughts were still on her mind as she watched the Royal guard pass through the gates of Edoras, moving back towards Minas Tirith. She caught her brother's tall stature and the golden head of the Slayer. She waited as they continued to move away until she returned to the shelter of her family home.

The road to Gondor was not nearly as perilous as the last time. Buffy still volunteered to do scouting, which left her free to worry about things other than Éomer. No matter how she felt about him, no matter what their relationship was, she had a job to do, first.

The only problem was, Éomer seemed perfectly willing to talk to her now.

"Isn't this dangerous?" she asked in a cool tone as he brought his horse near hers. They were less than a half day from Minas Tirith, having crossed over into the realm of Gondor the previous noon. "Are you sure you don't want the others to see?"

"Would it matter if they did?"

"Wouldn't it matter to you?"

"I would not hesitate to proclaim as I feel before my men."

"Isn't there a song that goes along with this?"

"You may mock me," he said, his eyes glittering, "but I fear you will not see the true purpose of this—"

"This little talk that shouldn't exist you mean?" she asked, her eyebrows rising. "No… I get it. I know how you feel, Éomer. I… I see things differently than you do. I'm not so simple."

"If you prefer it with folk who are not as simple," he said, his tone rising, "perhaps you would rather be with the Elves."

She snorted mirthlessly. "Because God knows I love them. I _love _the Elves, didn't you know? Wanna marry all of 'em… just because I can."

He just shook his head and allowed Sador to drop back. Once he was out of sight, she clearly rolled her eyes.

Minas Tirith looked stunning as usual. There was a great celebration in the air as they arrived in the city. King Éomer was greeted most warmly, she saw. There were women gathering everywhere to watch as the King and his Marshals ascended the city to the Citadel, where King Elessar and his new bride, Queen Evenstar were waiting.

At last, Buffy was introduced to the Elven Queen.

"This is my pride, my pupil," Gandalf said, taking Buffy's arm as he led her to the Queen's chair. "This is Merilin, Buffy, the Slayer of great folk and quite the magnificent fighter."

She beamed at Gandalf before extended her hand to Arwen. She was quite surprised when Arwen just inclined her head. "The delight is mine," she said, her grey eyes glistening as she lifted her chin. "Aragorn has spoken highly of you. Surely you must have tired from your long journey. Tonight you will remain in the city as my guest."

Over the next few hours, Buffy felt more relaxed than anything. She had been promptly stripped of her armor by the Elvish handmaidens and had been fitted with a gown for that evening's festivities. They were there to celebrate the return of the pact Éomer and Aragorn had made, she realized as they carefully threaded her top. The gown must have been custom-made, she thought, glancing at the long, sweeping golden drapes. It was a stunning gown that looked heavy, but weighed but a nickel. Twirling slightly, she was forced to remain still as two women tackled her hair, slipping it up and pinning it into place.

Gandalf was waiting for her once she came out, wearing a long golden gown and a scowl. Though she looked as priceless as the greatest jewels, the dour look on her face made him smile. There was always some room for amusement when it came to her, though her glowering eyes soon turned on him, and he turned his amusement into a slow frown. "Perhaps you did not know that this was a dinner in celebration."

"I'm celebrating the fact I'm short and apparently not cut out for Elvish costumes," she grumbled, lifting her arms. "These go down to the floor, Gandalf."

"That is what they are meant to do," he counseled her.

"Great, just great," she grumbled, crossing her arms and promptly tripping over her gown.

"I am pleased that you could come," Gandalf said. "There is a matter I wish to discuss with you that can wait until morning."

"I'll look forward to it," she replied.

The sun was already starting to dip behind the mountains as Gandalf and Buffy arrived at the banquet hall. "I will now pass you onto your escort," he said with his kind smile as he took her arm and slipped her hand into the hand of a Gondorian soldier. It took her a moment to realize it was Faramir. Her smile spoke wonders, Gandalf thought as he passed into the hall, his white robe clearing gleaming above all the colors and jewels of the hall within.

King Éomer was already seated with his men as Aragorn rose. As the doors parted again, Éomer turned his head and felt his chest seize. There was a small figure looking like a true warrior on the arm of her escort. He knew that Faramir was betrothed to his sister, but it was a different matter completely to see that his own beloved was taking the arm of another. Faramir bent his head and spoke into her ear. A moment later, they steered away from the Rohan high table and moved toward the Elves.

Éomer frowned deeply at this and rose, but his first Marshal slipped a hand onto his shoulder. "She will return, my Lord… leave her be."

Apparently Buffy was not the only one who could see things, he thought grudgingly as he sat down.

Galadriel was there, and with her was the Master Elf she introduced as her son. Elrond bowed his head and the two began to speak.

"I have to tell you, I know next to nothing about you," she said, flashing him a bright smile as she sat to his left. At the main table, Arwen turned and saw that her father was engaged with the young warrior that Aragorn had spoken quite highly of. Nudging him slightly, she gestured this point to her husband, who looked rather amused.

"I would rather not like to tell you that there is no chance that she will ever go with your Adar," he said, speaking quietly in her ear.

"What makes you so certain?" she breathed.

"Her heart belongs there," Aragorn said, gesturing to the table at their left. Crowded with a group of rowdy-looking men, the King had his eyes on the Elvish side of the room and his jaw appeared to be set. "There is talk of her as a Queen."

"There can be more to her than just a Queen of Rohan."

"There is a great deal more than this," Aragorn replied, pleased. "But that does not mean she will defy what her heart speaks. This is what you have done."

"I understand," Arwen replied, glancing back over at her father. Elrond wore his usual expression of patience on his face as he listened to the young woman speak before him.

Across the room, Éomer took a deep gulp of ale and set his empty mug aside. Spotting the Elf and the Dwarf, he waved Gimli over. "If you must, send for your axe," he said in a voice of mock anxiety.

"I will have it sent within reason," Gimli said, glancing at Éomer with the look of a Dwarf that had had a few too many ales. "What speak you of?"

"Those words make little sense, Master Dwarf," Éomer replied, glancing at the smiling and laughing figure across the room. She was now surrounded by Elves, including the tall, matching set of sons of Elrond. Though she spoke in a low voice, she was carefully avoiding contact with the human side of the room. Feeling as though a growl were approaching, he turned his attention back to the Dwarf. "I must say that Lady Galadriel is not the fairest woman I have set eyes upon."

"Then I must fetch my axe," Gimli said with a low hoot as he rose, clapping his hands together.

"I have my eyes set on sunlight, but her light radiates a new glow," Éomer replied. Gimli followed his gaze and stopped celebrating his small victory.

"Any fool would see what you feel, laddie," Gimli said, clasping Éomer upon the shoulder. "Though Elves contain such radiant beauty, my heart belongs to the sunrise, the eternal light. The night belongs to the one they call Elessar. It seems as you, my Lord, have captured the attention of many."

Éomer scowled as Gimli strode away. It was true that his men had captured the attention of many stunning young women. But his eyes were only set on one. He watched as Galadriel gave Elrond a patented look before departing, her glow seeming to fade as she swept regally outdoors.

He cast his eyes towards the Elvish delegation, but found his concentration suddenly concerned by the fact that the object of his pointed obsession was no longer there.

x-x-x

It was as though she were being called. It was much cooler outside and she was finally able to breathe. She felt so much more relaxed out in the open, where she wasn't being stared at or talked about. Smoothing her heavy golden gown, she released a long breath and stood at the edge of the rail. This air was soothing to her.

She caught of flash of light out of the corner of her eye. Curious, she turned from her spot and moved away from the door. The music and laughter slowly died away as she followed what she soon discovered was a faint Elvish glow. Remembering Éomer's accusations towards her affiliation with the quaint beings, she kept her distance. But she almost felt as though she were being pulled along, like on a string.

The steps led into a garden that, serving her own memory, had been dead just a few hours before. The trees seemed to be blooming in the wake of such a noble creature. Only one woman could inspire such cooperating from nature, and that was Galadriel.

"Speak of the devil," she murmured, recognizing the woman's willowy silhouette in the darkness. "Hello."

"I had been hoping to speak with you," Galadriel said in her misty tone. "There is much that needs to be said."

"Considering the last time you saw me I was a refugee, I hardly think that there's anything to say anymore that hasn't been done, said or inflicted," Buffy countered, crossing her arms.

"Your tongue is wise," Galadriel said with her patented serenity. "However, it will not protect you from me."

"Didn't think so," Buffy replied. "You seem the type that doesn't have to put up with all this crap."

Galadriel smiled. "Many thousands of years have helped this… putting up with such," she replied as she sat at one of the few fountains in the garden. It was a gentle white cup holding a great deal of clear water. "And yet none of the bitter losses or grim memories could escape my mind in the hour of victory. I, too, know the feeling of loss, Buffy." Her eternal age seemed to shine in her eyes as she glanced at the Slayer. "Yet none of it prepared me for the adventure thousands of years in the making."

"You're talking about the final journey," Buffy surmised. "The one going west?"

"Gandalf has taught you much," Galadriel said with a slight nod. "Yet there is much to learn." She paused. "Do you remember the words you spoke 'ere you began this journey?"

"I remember it was hateful," Buffy said, wincing. "I wasn't in the best mood."

"There was more than just spite."

"I wasn't hoping for anything," Buffy confessed. "I was just looking for an easy way out. I figured I'd been screwed enough in my life… didn't need any more with the messing."

"They were words concerning your sister," Galadriel prompted her.

"Oh," Buffy whispered. Never for a second had she forgotten the fact that she was separated from Dawn, possibly forever. It was just too depressing to think about. "I don't like to think about her, because I really can't change what's happened," she uttered uncomfortably.

"There is much that you have risked," Galadriel replied, turning to face her. "Before you journeyed to our time, you gave your word, your promise that you would live in this world. To live a life as empty as you claim is not a life worth living at all. You asked that your sister be given protection after your passing from your world."

Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat. Did her desire for death alter her agreement with that stupid balance demon? "What do you know?" she asked nervously, finding that her hands were twisting.

"The balance has not been altered," Galadriel assured her. "But perhaps you will see that this decision was not made in vain." Turning, she lifted her hand and gently set it upon the water. As the pool began to ripple, she withdrew her hand and rose, turning away. "You will see for yourself that all you have hoped for has come to pass."

Buffy sat on the stone fountain, watching as the water began to ripple. As each wave crested, she saw another image. The first image was of Dawn. "Dawnie?" she whispered, bringing a stunned hand to her mouth. "Oh, Dawn." It nearly tore her heartstrings to see Dawn smiling and walking with friends again. Although she was now in Cleveland where another Hellmouth stood, she could see that Dawn was popular, happy and smiling again. Another ripple showed Dawn and Andrew getting rather closer. Coughing slightly, she waited for the next image and noticed how her face relaxed. Dawn was drawing again! Despite Giles' insistence that Dawn was going to end up a Watcher just like him, she was showing great aptitudes in the arts. And Andrew photographing her to be her own model was something that was quite ingenious, if not perfectly balanced. Dawn was moving on with her life and it touched her deeply to know that Buffy was still on her mind. There were photographs in Dawn's new bedroom, inside her locker and in her new house that displayed Buffy's sad, tragic past. It was something that Buffy felt she had moved beyond. Maybe she had.

Another ripple brought another face, and Buffy smiled as she saw Giles. Her former mentor was putting together another Watcher's Council and was rebuilding his collection. He was also apparently dating, as she saw from another wave. Xander was next; her one-eyed construction friend was building houses now and because his sight was still off, he was focusing more on interior decorations. Willow was also there, with a college campus in the background and a Bachelor's degree in teaching on her mind. Kennedy was no where in sight, but Buffy still saw Willow surrounded by many, many beautiful women. At last, as the ripples began to recede, she saw Spike. She felt slightly torn seeing him with Harmony again working with Angel. Speaking of that, seeing the two undead men she had ever loved working in close proximity was enough to start her breath ablaze. Seeing them both working for the better good of the world was something that comforted her.

The truth was, they were moving on with their lives. It was time for her to break the same damned pattern and do the same. As the pool returned to a glistening still vat of water, she slowly lifted a finger and brushed at her eyes, but felt no dampness. There was nothing there. She felt as though she had seen something that had given her such a charge. They were surviving without her. The parting image had been Faith leading Kennedy, Rona, Vi and many other Slayers in training exercises. They were learning to go on.

"Thank you," she told Galadriel quietly. "Thank you for showing me."

"You have only seen a small piece of a challenging future that awaits them," Galadriel returned, smiling again. "Your death gave them a new life. They would wish for you to live if they knew of this."

Buffy lifted her hands, the silky material of her golden gown feeling smooth and soft beneath her fingertips. "For the first time, I feel at peace," she said softly. "I feel like I've sacrificed everything and for once it's for something good."

"You are a woman of great strength and with that comes the sacrifice of self," Galadriel replied. "You have it within you to have the power to do great things. Rohan is a fortunate nation to have your skills at its perusal. All will benefit from what you have to teach them. And you will teach them. In time, you will see your true powers. In time, you will become what you are destined to be. The Slayer of the past is gone now. Your promise to save your friends from grief has given you a mighty gift. You are no longer alone. There are those in power who wish to see you smile and not grieve for those who no longer grieve for you."

Buffy stood up, feeling empowered. "Just when I thought I could throw it all away…" she murmured.

"Become the power within," Galadriel advised her, "for the time has come to lead with your heart. It is your greatest strength."

"Thank you," Buffy said, her tone strengthening as she beamed at the tall Elven queen behind her. "It's nice to know that even when I'm not really here you can see me."

"I will not always remain," Galadriel said, gazing to the east while her fingers grazed the ring still adorning her finger. "Already my heart pulls to the west. I have lost much and now the time has come to go the west. I will find my peace with my people as you have now found peace with yours." Rising, she strolled towards the edge of the garden. "The night is quite young, Buffy. The time has come 'ere my presence is missed." Bowing her head slightly, she departed.

Buffy walked around the garden, lost in thought. Her family was safe. Her friends were happy. Everything that she had always hoped for them was happening. Even though she wasn't there, she felt as though she had done something right. But Galadriel's words came back to her. Her heart was her greatest strength? Did the Elven Lady even know how many times her heart had been within a tear of blackening the world with her dark Slayer powers? Shaking her head, she too exited the garden and made her way back to the banquet hall. Hearing the laughter and music from within, she returned to her rail and stared at the moon.

"T'was a noble act you did," a quiet voice spoke from behind her.

"And the surprises just keep on coming," she muttered. "I don't know what you're talking about," she added loudly.

Faramir looked amused as he stepped up next to her. "The Wizard has been praising your stubbornness," he informed her, smirking slightly. "It appears as though you turned down Elrond's offer."

"Like I want to spend the rest of my days in an Elvish monastery?" she asked, now expressing her own amusement. "He's just mad because his own daughter got married."

"You truly missed a ceremony spoken in wonders," Faramir said softly. "I only that my own will surpass all the dreams of my beloved."

"You mean Éowyn's hopes and dreams?" Buffy asked loftily. "I don't think you have to stretch that hard. She adores you to the point of obsession and she can't wait to see you again. Just think… in a few months, you two will be dancing under the stars thanking all the dead men for bringing you to this very moment and expressing your hope that all others can cherish these moments along with you."

"At this point your abuse of sarcasm has gone beyond words," Faramir said, patting her shoulder.

"No," she said, looking up at him with the look of utmost sincerity. "I mean it. You two deserve happiness. I can't think of any two people who deserve it more together."

"My only wish is that you can share this happiness as well."

"I will," she said quietly, looking away. "I mean, I am happy here. Something tells me that I made the right choice in choosing to live. Everything that comes after is just frosting."

He gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze before moving away. She stood there a moment longer until she felt a cool breeze shift in the night. Glancing up, she saw the person she had wanted to see standing a short distance away. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, she moved towards him, well aware that the sounds of the beads on the bottom of her gown were giving her away. Yet he didn't turn around. She wasn't ready for that yet.

"Nice night," she said as she came to rest at his side. "I like the stars."

"Was it not a few nights ago that you told me the stars reminded you of loss?" he questioned. He sounded characteristically moody tonight, she thought, frowning slightly. She only hoped it wouldn't be a problem, since she felt a torrent of words coming along and she wasn't sure she would stop talking once provoked.

"I made a promise to someone to protect those I loved," she said, staring out into the night. "Tonight I found out that they are protected. They're safe and warm and happy and complete. I know now that I'm safe here because I'm surrounded by people who know what to do with a sword. I'm not really warm because this is a far cry from California, but I'm getting used to it. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've been really happy in my life. I don't think I've ever felt complete. But tonight, I'm at peace because now I believe that there is something here to hold onto. To believe in. I believe that I have a place here… a place that you gave me."

"I would do no less for one with your skill," he apprised, turning to look at her. She was still gazing outwards, but she could feel the intensity of his look. "There are many who wish for your happiness." He frowned slightly at recalling the large amount of men and Elves that had been vying for her attention. "There are many who would wish to make you happy."

"It isn't about the attention," she countered, smirking at the moody scowl on his face. Despite her earlier reservations that the look made him look excessively mean and not pleasant, she was used to his mood swings. "It's about a feeling, a rush… something that's just more than sweet words and… damn, can those Elves sing."

"They _sang_ to you?" he asked, turning those smoldering eyes on her. She smiled sweetly at the look on his face. "I do despise those creatures," he growled.

"It wouldn't matter if they serenaded the night away," she said, smiling slightly as she turned her face back to the breeze. "I don't think anything they could do would matter."

"They are beautiful creatures," he grudgingly admitted. "To win over your heart in spite of the fact they will never die…"

"Oh, they won't win me over," she chuckled, shaking her head. "I think I'm already won."

He gazed at her, confusion dimming the dark light that seemed to emanate from him in waves. "What say you?" he asked.

"I said that no matter what anyone says or what anyone tries to do, within reason unless I break something painful, nothing said or actions done will matter," she replied tartly. "The truth is, I like somebody. And I think that somebody likes me back. As easy as it sounds, I'm good with that. I don't need a hundred suitors offering me the world. I already have the one that offered me something more."

She could have laughed at the confusion on his face. Obviously this man had never had a heart-to-heart not regarding a horse before. Reaching up, she took his face in her cool hand. "I have got to teach you how to properly woo," she laughed. "For a King, you are out of style."

Seeing the elation on her face, along with her classic bemusement, he covered her hand with his. "There is so much I was willing to say to… say," he said, as though he couldn't think of anything reasonably intelligent to say.

She heaved a dramatic sigh as she pulled her hand away. "You want to try singing?"

He winced. "I do not believe you would find it very… soothing."

"Can't sing, huh?" she asked, grinning. "I can live with that." Turning, she glanced back over at the stars. "I think someone's smiling on me tonight and it feels good. It feels whole. Almost complete."

She felt his hand on her back, guiding her towards the steps. "Perhaps we should turn in," he advised. "We are leaving quite early."

"Right, the funeral march," she replied, nodding. "I got it."

"Once we return to Rohan…"

"I'll keep my distance for as long as it takes," she replied as she paused, gazing at the doors. The sounds of a very fun, deafening party came from within. "But just know I'm not going to run away when you decide the time is right."

"If it were my decision, I would declare it to the world," he said. He only looked slightly less grumpy, which suited her just fine. He was so pretty to look at even when he was all glowering.

"Someday you will," she said, "once they get used to you as a King."

"Perhaps someday you will be named Queen."

"One thing at a time, please," she grimaced, holding up a hand. "There's only so much I can do in one night. This… whatever it is… it works now. Since you obviously don't know how to court, well… I can help a little bit. I'm a fan of the unconventional. I don't even think I've ever had a normal date…"

During the next half hour, they lapsed into a reminiscent stroll through her memory lane, where she recounted the tales of her false dates. Since he considered it somewhat of a learning experience, he said little, even though his face darkened each time he heard that this woman had been hurt. She was strength incarnate. He never would have dreamt of seeing her in pain from one breaking that heart.

All at once, it seemed as though they had reached her room. Turning to face him, she removed her arm from his and glanced inside. "Well… thanks for listening. Even for a guy… you're good at that."

"It amazes me how little I knew of you," he replied.

"Oh, you'll know everything sooner or later," she said with an anxious, little smile. "The good, bad and the ugliest. If you don't run screaming for the exits, well… then I'll know."

Seeing the tired look on her face and the darkness within, he bowed his head and made to back away. But she reached over and seized his arm. His next memory was of her lips on his and her warmth spreading to every fiber of his being. Even as they separated, he had no willingness to leave, despite the fact she had wished him good night and had slipped inside. There was just something about her that made him want to know more. It seemed as though she knew him as a simple man, but she was anything but simple. It was as though watching a leaf bloom and fall in the same season, all the complexities of a single fragment of a growing, united thing…

And he knew he now possessed that beauty. Despite their best efforts, she cared for him. For now, that was all that mattered.

x-x-x

In the next chapter, a former King returns home, a new Lady leaves home and a Slayer dreams of something more.


	28. Journey Home

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: As this story comes to its conclusion, well… you know the drill.

_Claddagh - So much story to tell, so few chapters remaining._

_General Mac - of course._

_sparky24 - There was reason for the Elf bashing that is further explained in this chapter. It has something to do with Éomer and Legolas and the rivalry since when they first met. And yes, I will miss this story, too. _

_XinnLajgin - Oh, wow. Thank you for the little lesson. I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter._

_spk - I was thinking that the only way Buffy would truly be at peace is when she realized that her self-sacrifice would lead to good things happening instead of death, mayhem and destruction on their end. As for being 'almost complete', it has a lot of meanings. Part of it has to do with their developing relationship. Another part of it has to do with her new powers and this so-called destiny awaiting her. Part of it is explained in this chapter._

_Cat – Thank you!_

_Tommy14 – Thank you very much. Neither can I, really. _

Chapter Summary: A former King leaves for his final resting place and a former Lady leaves her home for the last time.

Chapter Warning: This is Katrina's last chapter. After this amazing journey, she was perfectly happy to conclude her involvement here. I do regret that I altered part of the book (if you love the books as I do, you will see where) but understand that I did want to part from the book and I thought that this was one way to do it.

x-x-x

**Chapter 28**

**Journey Home**

_By Katrina Claire_

x-x-x

Buffy was awakened at dawn suddenly. She glanced around her dim room and rose, dressing quickly. She was walking through the fourth tier of the city as the sun rose and she made it to the citadel less than an hour later. For some reason, she felt as though she needed to be here. She wasn't quite sure as to why. She soon saw the reason standing on a hill past the citadel. Apparently, it was way _above _the citadel. Yet his gleaming white robes were quite obvious to the granite surrounding him. He was gazing peacefully out at the sunrise. And yet when they made eye contact, he beckoned her up and disappeared behind a particularly jagged rock.

Buffy made her way past the citadel and to the rocky trail behind the ageless structure. It took her a good twenty minutes to even reach the top of the summit. Even so, she was sticky and out of breath as she gazed down and nearly swooned. She had never been one to fear heights, but this was ridiculous. Though the beacon was still two hundred or so feet above her, this was still somewhere in the elevation of three or four thousand feet in the air, or more. And yet she felt a great power just looking at the distance between her and the Pelennor. This would make for some awesome skydiving.

A throat cleared behind her and she turned to see the Wizard approaching, looking amused. "I trust that you slept well?"

"Very," Buffy said, giving the old man a pleasant smile and turning back to regard the scenery below her. "That's a long way down."

Gandalf promptly glanced over the cliff's edge and gave a narrow shudder. "That would not be a pleasant way to go," he said in a hushed voice. "I really hope you do not consider making such a move."

"I'm not jumping any cliffs today," Buffy replied, taking a step back and turning to greet the Wizard. "Good morning."

"So it is," Gandalf replied, gesturing towards another narrow path leading into the mountains. Buffy nodded and walked ahead of him, sensing that Gandalf wished to speak to her in private. This had to be the most remote part of the city. "As you will be leaving for Rohan soon, I wished to have a private word with you." He gave her a rather curious look as she paused, glancing at the ancient trees now growing out of either side of the steep rock wall. She suddenly felt as though she was being cornered someplace. "Much will now change now that this war has ended. I am certain you know of this."

"I'm not going to change my mind if that's what you're asking," she said, casting him a sideways glance. "I happen to like where I'll be living."

"There is much more to this world than a simple people, my dear child," Gandalf replied, leaning against the rocks and gazing up at the wispy sky above them. "I was hoping this walk would garner such perspective. There are places to journey and thousands of new lands and ideas to learn… the world is open to your mind if you would open your mind to this world."

Buffy paused, pressing her hand to the rock. "How old is this?"

"Many thousands of years," Gandalf chuckled as he watched her touch the old, crackled structure. "It has stood countless ages since the creation of this world thousands of years ago. In all my time this has stood alone amongst many things. Peoples have fallen, empires have collapsed and though dust from the dead filters the air, well… nature has its way of preserving itself. It was one of many wonders in this world, Buffy. I hope that some day you will see it all."

"I know I started out as your student, Gandalf. But things have changed. _I _have changed. Part of my soul belongs to that free land now. And I think a part of me will always be back home." She crossed her arms and leaned against an old tree, feeling it shudder against her weight. "Galadriel showed me something last night. She showed me that my friends and family back on my Earth are moving on. They found their own place in this world. I think it's only fair that I find mine."

"I will not discourage you from seeking what you must," Gandalf smiled gently as he stood beside her. "But I will ask you once more… the day may come when I must journey from this world. My place in this time has ended. I have done what I was asked to do – end the reign of a dark Lord. As the time of the Elves has come to an end, so has my own. I, too, carry a burden that must cease to be in this world. I must make my journey into the West." He saw the look of surprise on Buffy's face and shook his head at the confusion in her eyes. "I will not ask you to take the journey into the West. However, if you wish to go, you may. This is not a privilege many are granted, as Valinor was closed to all but the Immortal ones back in the time when men grew corrupt and wished for that light to be their own. You have granted yourself a place in the timeless West to cure your hurts and to live a blessed life, a happy life."

"An empty life," she deadpanned. "Forgive me, Gandalf… but how can you ask me to give this up? I stand here as a Slayer, someone with the power to affect change and to destroy all that would stand against the innocent. I have protected the people my entire life. I can't just throw that away. There's… something for me here. To travel west would be—"

"An eternal Heaven, the one that you longed to seek," Gandalf replied, resting his hand upon her shoulder. "There you will find comfort and joy and peace at last. You will find no time exists, nor can it be counted. There will a vast green shore under a swift sunrise and with the waves of a new sea crashing upon newborn rock. There, at last, I will find my peace."

"Are you telling me that if I gave this up, I could go to Heaven?" she asked, blinking in disbelief. "Gandalf, I…"

"The journey to the Grey Havens is not one undertaken lightly," he reminded her. "It is a long journey with many stops. I wish for you to take this with me, if you are able. I wish for you to see what I have not yet shown you."

After a moment, she nodded. "I will. After all you've done for me this is the least I could do."

They shared a decidedly warmer smile.

"I will not deceive you as others may," Gandalf said, as he led the way back down the path, "but this will not be an easy life for you. Hardness and toils you are accustomed to. Seeing the hurts in battle you know. Helping a nation find peace and prosper once again is a challenge not taken by many. There is great hope for you, but much stands to fall if you should fail."

"That's why I can't fail them," Buffy said, shaking her head. "I'm a Slayer, Gandalf. I don't know how to fail."

He watched as she continued walking before allowing a small smile and following behind her. As soon as they reached the sharp cliff and path back to the citadel, she stopped. "I still think this would be one wicked ride."

Gandalf peered over the rocks again and shook his head. "Only for the very young would that distance be a great feat."

"Oh, come on," Buffy said, turning to look at him, her eyes twinkling. "You're telling me that a Wizard such as yourself wouldn't enjoy the ultimate rush of speeding air and the risk of impending doom?"

"No, I cannot say that I would enjoy such a… rush," Gandalf replied, his brow furrowing. "If you were to make such a claim, I would have you claimed by the Houses of Healing never to return to Rohan."

She gave him a long look before scoffing and beginning the descent downwards. "You sound like Giles."

He waited until she was out of sight before he muttered, "I believe that may have been a compliment."

The sun had fully risen by the time Buffy returned to the citadel. She continued across the long trek to the gates leading back to the sixth tier when she spied Gandalf far above again. He was gazing thoughtfully over the edge of the cliff and shaking his head sadly. Smirking to herself, she continued down the ramp and out of sight of the old Wizard.

x-x-x

As the funeral train was apparently getting underway, Buffy was soon found on the fifth tier and was led to what the Gondorians called the morgue. The guards released the doors and then allowed her inside. Already King Théoden was being prepped to go as they were placing him in a clear case. He was covered by a replica of the Rohan banner and though his face had altered little during their departure, there was a definite scent of the dead around him.

The men who had been tending to them noticed her and quickly left, giving her a moment of privacy with the fallen King.

She was soon left alone in a room encased with the tombs of dead Stewards and, likely, Kings. It was both creepy and eerily insightful at the same time. Bending down, she placed her hand on the King's chest, only to feel it compress with the slightest touch. Wincing slightly but not pulling back, she held the position a moment before she felt compelled to speak.

"You were the reason I was brought here. You were the King I was sent to guide, to guard and to save. I don't think I did a very good job. But now I've got a second chance, you know? I only hope you don't mind I'm sticking around. I kind of like your land. And your nephew is great. I hope you can see how perfectly you raised him. He is going to be a great King. I only hope I can help him." She smiled as she decided to append her words. "I _know _I can help him. He's a special man. No special ed or anything you'll never be able to understand, but he's… he's one of the best men I've ever known. He loves what he does and he's good at it. He's got this duty, this destiny and he's willing to do whatever it takes to see it through. I'm going to be there with him for as long as I can. I'm going to take this journey home. Thank you for giving what you gave. You were a worthy King and I was proud to serve you. Very proud… I just wish I could have said some of this when you were still alive. Here's to the future of your beloved Rohan." She lifted her hand and clasped his. "May you rest in peace."

Her perfect control was shattered for an instance when she saw the cracked horn resting alongside him in his coffin. Blinking, she lifted it and held it for a moment before returning the horn to his elbow. "Goodbye," she whispered as she turned away. It was eerie listening to her own footsteps as she crossed the marble terrace. Turning one last time, she saw the guards returning to tend to their fallen King.

She returned to her rented room and began packing things away. She knew that it would be some time before she saw Gondor again, much less this city. As soon as she was done packing, which didn't take very long as she didn't have many belongings, she heard the approach of several people. When she turned to the doorway, she was surprised to see the Elf and the Dwarf waiting outside.

"Dear lady," Gimli said, accepting her invitation inside and gazing around the cozy quarters, "we are nearly prepared to depart."

"How many are going?"

"Many," Legolas replied, ducking as he stepped inside. He frowned as he realized how low the ceilings were and it seemed to amuse both the Dwarf and the young woman, who exchanged a rather amused smirk before she began gathering her things. "King Elessar and Queen Arwen will accompany the funeral escort of King Théoden. We will also make this journey. It is said that no King has ever received such a reception for an escort."

"Well, he does deserve it," Buffy said. "He held up his end of the mark of Earl or something."

This time, Legolas and Gimli exchanged the bemused look. "This 'mark of Earl' has been in place since Rohan was founded, my Lady," Legolas explained patiently.

"I knew that," she frowned, spinning in a circle. "I thought I was missing a corset…"

Their amused look quickly turned embarrassed as they watched the well-respected woman move around the small room, get down on all fours and glance under her bed. "Lady, if you are missing an item," Gimli began in an uncomfortable voice.

"Thing is, I wasn't even sure I brought it," she muttered from under the bed. She started to speak again, but was cut off by a sneeze and a string of colorful curses, none of which Legolas or Gimli understood. "And it's not like I can just drive back later to look for it."

"Lady?" Legolas asked.

"Oh, stop it with the 'lady' this and 'lady' that," she snapped, getting back to her feet and reaching for her pack. "It's Buffy, okay? Just Buffy. Don't call me Merilin or Lady or your royal pain-in-the-ass-ness or anything like that, okay?"

"Of course," Gimli said with a curt nod. They stepped aside as she dragged her pack out into the air, glanced around and began her journey back towards the Pelennor.

There were many already gathered on the field when she approached. A hand moved out to return Sador to her more than capable care. Buffy was thrilled when she saw her horse, as was Sador when she saw her master. Tossing her head, she buried her nose over her master's shoulder as Buffy clung briefly to her faithful steed's neck before stepping back. After attaching the pack to the saddle, she quickly mounted the steed and glanced around. Only half of the Rohirrim guards were present. She was stunned to see dozens of well-dressed Elves awaiting the escort to begin. What amazed her were Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn waiting patiently atop their mounts, gazing benignly at the crowds swelling around them. Her attention went back to the open gate (as there was yet no gate standing) as Queen Evenstar appeared with four ponies around her. The ponies were led to the four smallest members of their party. All four Hobbits quickly mounted these steeds and waited aside the Queen, who rode apart from her father and grandmother, looking uneasy. Buffy gently pushed Sador to the Queen's side.

Arwen smiled at her as she saw Buffy pull up next to her. "It pleases me to see that you are making this journey," she said in a low voice.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it," Buffy replied airily. "Besides, I kind of like the thought of going home."

There was a dark look on Arwen's face as she looked away. "Home… that word is relative to the one who speaks it," she murmured.

"Home is where you happen to be, if your heart's in it," Buffy replied matter-of-factly. "Home isn't the place where you were brought up. Home isn't your family waving goodbye. Home is where you choose to be."

"It still pains me to see those I care for in such obvious pain over this choice," Arwen replied, her voice losing a bit of intensity.

"Give them time to accept your choice, Arwen. You haven't been Queen for two weeks yet," Buffy said, hiding her own smirk. "Besides, you will make a fantastic queen. From what I've heard, you've got a great future ahead of you."

"It is a future that will lead to death," Arwen whispered. "This is no feat for someone of my blood or of my kin."

"You chose this path because you loved him," Buffy steadily replied. "Don't regret making the best decision of your life. Together, you will do great things. This world will be better because of him and because of you. You were born to lead Arwen. You weren't born to waste away in an Elvish paradise, no matter what anyone says."

"I could say the same for you," Arwen said, lifting her solid grey eyes and meeting Buffy's directly. "Your words carry wisdom and hope. You will bring a great future to these people."

"I know," Buffy replied. She was tired of denying that she would be a great queen. She was tired of saying that she would not step up should it be asked of her. But she was still, above all, Éomer's counsel. "This world is lucky because look at who it has to lead them. There is so much to do to make things right. And I think I know where to start."

Arwen nodded, her gaze flickering up towards the gate. There were still figures moving through, but King Théoden's body had not. King Elessar and King Éomer were also missing. "Should you remain at Edoras, you should know that you are always welcome at the Citadel. It would be an honor to host such a benevolent lady."

"I think you'd be welcome in Edoras, too," Buffy replied lightly. "I mean, you never know… I could finally learn how to cook."

Arwen's light laughter was almost worth it, Buffy thought, smirking to herself. She would have continued on had four horses not stepped from the gate. Two were leading forward a large cart with a casing on top of it. The two riders behind the cart were King Elessar and King Éomer. Queen Arwen gave her a soft look before urging her steed forward to meet her husband's. Buffy remained where she was, surrounded by Hobbits, as the cart rode by. She caught a brief glimpse of the dead man within. She heard a strange silence befall the riders beyond the cart and knew that the entire valley was waiting on bated breath for the cart to pass them. She turned and saw a Hobbit ride forward. "Merry?" she asked quietly. As she saw his pony broke into a full canter, she shouted out, "Merry!"

Two of the Rohirrim guards saw the Hobbit ride forward and quickly cut him off. She blinked as she turned and slowly prompted Sador forward to join the rest of the Rohirrim guard. The Elves were allowed to set forward first, but they remained behind, wishing for Rohan to lead the way back. As they left the valley and the safety of the City of Kings, soldiers of Gondor stood on either side of the path, holding an unlit torch every third man. The others stood there with their leather-clad fists clasped to their heart. In silence, Buffy rode ahead and continued to move. Merry watched as she left, riding up alongside the King. They didn't acknowledge one another, but they continued forward. As the guards in front of him left, he watched as the cart began moving again. He saw Théoden's peaceful face and felt comforted that, at least, he was going to rest in his own tomb near his son, dearest to him.

After the Rohirrim had ridden on, King Elessar and Queen Arwen rode next. Elessar turned to beckon the Hobbits forward and they followed directly behind the cart. Behind them were Aragorn's guards and the Elves. Lastly were the others who had chosen this path, Gandalf included. In all, more than two hundred were taking this journey to the north.

The silence lasted no more than a few hours. As they continued to ride, a soft song began. It sounded distance and peaceful, but it spoke strongly of loss. It took Buffy a moment to realize that the Elves were singing. Gandalf rode from the rearguard towards the front, passing the cart as he joined his former pupil. She dropped behind King Éomer to speak with him, but he had no words to say. Instead, they were privileged to Elf-song, the most peaceful lament she had yet heard. She almost wished she could have hired them for her funeral.

As darkness fell, the silence once again closed around them. As they stopped to rest, Buffy saw Merry and Pippin upon the cart, carefully cleaning the box the fallen King was now encased in. She stood for a moment, pitying them. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she saw Éomer over her shoulder and quickly drew her gaze away. They moved apart from the others and sat in silence. There were no words of comfort to speak. She was happy she was returning home, if Rohan could be called such, but she wasn't about to boast the fact she was happy.

A red sun rose the following morning. The Elves took this as a particularly ominous omen and moved rapidly, speaking in their own tongue dire warnings. Buffy shrugged off the red sun, taking it as an old fisherman's tale from her time. Obviously the weather was going to suck.

And so it did; a storm came from the mountains and drenched the long train. The escort was slowed in its progress by the heavy rains and rolling creeks the frightened horses were reluctant to cross. Buffy felt a surge of pride for Sador as her faithful horse easily crossed the river. Wrapping her dripping cloak about her head, she blinked through the cold sheets of rain and steadied Sador to await the passing of others. Prince Faramir's horse easily crossed the creek and took to the muddy, rocky path to join hers.

"This is far too dangerous to attempt," he shouted through the sound of pounding droplets on the forest around them.

"Like we have much of a choice," she shouted back, her teeth chattering. "If we stay on the plain, we'll drown. Those creeks are rising so fast!"

"There must be a safer way to cross," Faramir grumbled. It was his hopes that she would not have heard, but he seemed to forget her advanced senses and he knew she could hear him perfectly when he saw her irritated look.

By the next morning, the waterlogged group welcomed the cool sunlight, which seemed to continue for the remainder of the journey across the mountains and through the hills. Once in Rohan, the weather was downright steamy. It was warm, yet dry. Buffy removed her outer cloak and embraced the warmth of the sun, throwing her arms back. An amused Sador charged forward, the motion nearly knocking the rider off of her.

The following day, Edoras was well within sights. Buffy's heart warmed to see the gleaming hill city, awaiting them. As they drew nearer, she saw long lines of Rohirrim awaiting them. They too carried torches, only these were lit. It was falling to darkness and the lit path was a beacon of light, showing them the road into the city. Buffy happily rode through them, seeing many familiar faces amongst those. As they reached the gates of the city, she was stunned to see the children once again standing there, holding candles. King Éomer was welcomed into his city and a long trail of others followed him.

The cart holding the King was allowed to pass. As it did, there was a long, slow song sung by the children in the Rohirric tongue. These were words few could understand, yet she saw Éomer mouthing them, tears evident in his eyes. This caused her to pause and two guards nearly ran into the rear of her steed. Never, in a thousand years, would she have thought to see this man cry.

Meduseld was as welcoming as ever. Éowyn had been waiting at her usual spot overlooking the city but withdrew inside as the riders began dismounting. She was in the entry hall, awaiting the return of her brother. Once she had greeted Éomer, Buffy and the rest of her brother's personal guards, she saw them move off. A slight smile graced her delicate features as she saw Éomer and Buffy leave together, side by side. She heard another voice and turned, her own heart beating erratically behind her chest. Seeing a familiar face within the crowd, she burst down the steps, pushing the others aside and passed into the arms of her soon-to-be husband. Faramir held onto her for a long moment as she laughed joyously into his ear. They held one another for a long, blissful moment 'ere he set her down. Reaching up with a cold hand to touch his face, he drew it down to hers as they enjoyed their first moment together under a brilliant Rohan sunset.

After greeting Faramir and watching as the others began populating their city, Éowyn retreated to the back of the old house and saw the cart with her Uncle's body. Faramir remained by her side until she released his hand. Giving her a comforting smile and pat on the shoulder, he released her to do whatever she needed. Éowyn moved forward to the cart and hid a sob as she saw her uncle's body entombed within. Blinking back tears, she ran her hand over the smooth, clear surface, admiring the way the shadows fell across his face. Releasing a long breath, she turned back to Faramir and they moved off together into the night.

Buffy was only in her room for a few seconds before Éomer called her out. Setting her pack aside, she had just removed her cloak when the knock sounded. King Éomer was on the other side and he wished for a word with her.

"Tomorrow the funeral will be held," he said clearly as he closed the door to his quarters behind her. "I wish for you to be there at my side. He… he trusted you above many others. He may not have spoken this to you, but he has spoken the truth to me. He believed you were capable of a great many things and he would have wanted you to remain at his side even as he was placed to rest." He turned and sat on a seat near the fire and gazed into its fiery depths as Buffy approached him from behind.

"I visited him before we left," Buffy admitted, and she told him what she had said. He listened patiently until she finished speaking.

"I understand," he replied, taking her hands and pulling her near to him. "For others, however, they will see their fallen leader and know that grief is still too near. They will not understand why so many have come to this funeral."

"Your uncle was a great man and a wonderful King," she said, gazing down at him where he sat. "It's only fair that your people have the chance to say goodbye."

"You are wise," Éomer said in relief.

"I had a good teacher," Buffy replied, shrugging. Gazing over his shoulder into the fire, she felt as though the warmth was spreading through her very being. "The children were brought back from the country?"

"Éowyn arranged this," he reluctantly admitted. "I knew that you approved of their welcome before and I believed it to be right for them to see their King return."

"It was a wise choice to delegate it to your sister, too," she said, giving him a sharp, appraising-type of look. "You just keep getting smarter and smarter, don't you?"

"I have had a good teacher," he replied, pulling her even nearer.

The sounds of Meduseld coming to life around them seemed to fade away. Pulling her to him, she sat at the edge of his seat and remained there in his arms as they both stared at the fire, enjoying the quiet for awhile.

"What happens now?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Though it may seem that time has come to stand still, there is much Rohan must do to prepare for the coming seasons," Éomer replied quietly. "But all news is not of work and toil. There is still a wedding to plan and a ceremony to attend."

She turned in his arms to gaze at him until she realized what he was talking about. "Éowyn's wedding?" she asked, a small smile playing along her lips.

He nodded. "I felt it only fair to attend as I am her brother."

"But what will I wear?" she asked dramatically, letting her head fall against his armored shoulder. She heard him chuckle as he shook his head.

"I do not believe such things will ever change," he declared.

"You know you like these things," she teased as she rose to her feet and stepped away from the fire. Suddenly she felt too flushed for comfort. She heard him move behind her and quickly took another few steps, eager to put some distance between them. There was a sudden playful look in his eyes as she moved towards the door. He quickly rushed to block it and she shrieked, taking several quick steps away and stumbling over the edge of his bed. He laughed and quickly rushed to her, yet again she moved away.

"Just admit that I'm faster than you," she laughed as she sprinted in front of the fireplace and leapt onto his seat, towering above him, her arms held out behind her for balance.

"I know for certain that you are much swifter than I could ever hope to be," he replied, smirking as he approached her. She didn't move and allowed him to reach her before leaping gracefully in the air. He managed to catch her before her face was met by the floor and held her a moment before her feet touched the ground. As she smoothed her gown, their eyes met. His arms tightened around her, pressing her to his armor.

"No fair," she pouted as he continued to tighten his grasp. "You're bigger than I am."

"I do not believe that you would need the protection," he said, amused as he kissed her.

"You're right," she said breathlessly a moment later. "I don't."

"Nor would you need the shelter," he replied, as she tightened her own hold, pulling him down to her for another brief embrace.

"Hmm… you're getting warmer," she hinted as his arms lifted her against him.

"I am uncertain as to what you would need," he frowned, looking puzzled despite the close moment.

"Just… shut up," she said at last, before pressing her lips to his. It seemed to him that it was futile to resist.

x-x-x

The next morning was cold. Buffy rolled out of bed and quickly pulled a wrap over her shoulders, gazing at her empty room. Despite the amount of fun she'd had last night, she had been tired from their long trek through the plains of Rohan and her bed looked more welcome than ever near midnight. At her washing bin, she quickly bathed and scrubbed the essence of horse from her skin. Dressing quickly, she retreated to the kitchens. She was pleasantly surprised to see that both Faramir and Éowyn were present and sitting side by side, eating quietly and enjoying a rather fond smile between lovers. Buffy felt a slight push of envy as they greeted her warmly.

"Good morning," Buffy said, smiling awkwardly as she sat at the large table. Recalling a conversation from months before, she smirked into her tea and quickly cut herself a chunk of bread and selected from a variety of fruit.

Faramir bent to kiss his future bride's cheek before rising. "I must see to something so your pardon, my ladies."

Éowyn beamed up at Faramir and released his hand as he left. As soon as he was out of sight, she turned and gave Buffy a rather fond look as well. "As soon as you are finished, I have a surprise for you."

Buffy's fork froze halfway to her mouth. "You do remember our conversation about the fact I hate surprises, right?"

"You may consider this one a gift," Éowyn prompted with a gay smile.

"Even better," Buffy moaned as she finished her breakfast.

"As soon as you left, I began to realize that a lady of your stature should not remain within a guest room of this estate," Éowyn began as they followed the spiral staircase to the main level and crossed the hallway before the throne room. The room was silent, though a peal of sunlight lit the room with a warm, golden glow. Buffy felt compelled to stay behind, but Éowyn pulled her onwards. As soon as they reached the top of the staircase, Éowyn removed a scrap of fabric.

"I'm going to start protesting soon," Buffy said, slightly annoyed as Éowyn tied the material over her eyes.

"You see too much," Éowyn said, unable to hide a grin as she led the woman forward. "I wished for you to see this as I will soon be leaving Meduseld and it is unlikely I will ever return."

Buffy let out a slow breath. All she could see because of the blindfold was muted light.

Éowyn lifted her chin and nodded to Faramir, who opened the door along with a separate guard. Éowyn led her to the center of the room. Glancing around, satisfied by her decision, she turned back to the annoyed, blindfolded Slayer. "I wished for you to have a space to rest and this room is very dear to me."

Buffy looked confused as she felt the woman's small hands reach up and untie the blindfold. As the material fell away, Buffy's eyes took in the many long streams of warm sunlight that fell into the room. She turned in a circle, taking in a large table and mirror, an even larger bed, a small sitting area and two fireplaces. In the opposite corner was a set of stairs that led to a loft. Three large windows and a skylight allowed ample sunshine to fill the room with color. Éowyn had indeed accomplished this, as the curtains and bedspread were both in beautiful shades of green.

"Éowyn," she whispered, her tone hushed as she turned to the other woman. Faramir was standing at the doorway, pulling the double doors closed behind him. "It's amazing."

"I want you to have my mother's bedroom," Éowyn said, smiling at Buffy's stunned reaction. "This room was once a beacon of light, laughter and music. I want it to be filled with light again. It has been too dark and filled with bitter memories. It is haunted with the presence of a woman who died so many years before. And now it will be whole again…" Éowyn's voice was choked as she struggled to speak through her tears. "She would have loved you."

Buffy came forward and hugged the older woman tightly. "Thank you," she said softly as Éowyn's arms tightened around her. "Thank you so much."

Éowyn let out a long breath as the two women separated, taking another moment to admire the room. "You are the lady of the estate," she breathed into Buffy's ear. "Now you have the room to prove it."

Buffy smirked as she continued to glance around the room. There were maps and scrolls and books set on shelves. Leaving these behind, she started walking upstairs only to find a small loft. There was a hammock-like object in the far corner with several cushions and another larger bookshelf. There was also a small table with a small silver basin and another mirror. All in all, it was the perfect place to 'get away from it all', Buffy thought, gazing out two smaller windows and seeing Edoras come to life below. As she returned downstairs, she was surprised to see that Éowyn had left. Knowing what this meant and the amount of packing she had to do, she hurried forward.

It was then she saw the wall nearest the door. There was a plethora of swords, knives and other miscellaneous weapons hanging on a dark cloth, many within her grasp. She tilted her head as she touched the weapons, feeling as though they empowered her. Sometimes, she just couldn't believe her luck.

x-x-x

It was dusk that day when the last funeral procession began. The green tomb had been opened, the stone set aside as the King's foremost guards came forward, six holding the large, ornate platform. The King had been removed from the crate and set on top of this platform and now, at last, they moved forward.

Hundreds of soldiers stood on either side. Those closest to the path held their swords overhead. The ones standing behind held their hands at their sides. King Éomer stood behind the six guards, his face set in a rather emotionless look. Buffy was at his side as he had requested and his hand remained on her back. She wore a long black gown embroidered with silver. It was a child's dress but it seemed appropriate for this moment. A ring of silver sat atop her carefully made-up hair.

Éowyn and the guests of the King all remained near the tomb. Her gown was both black and lavender. A ring of gold decorated her fair head as she stood there.

Silently the six guards came forth, bringing the body of King Théoden, son of Thengel, with them. King Éomer followed close behind, his own personal guards walking behind him. He glanced up at King Elessar and Queen Arwen who stood opposite Éowyn nearest the tomb entrance. They both wore fragile expressions of grief, but Éomer knew that Aragorn's grief was not something shown readily. Aragorn had once served under Théoden and it gave him comfort to know that his friend and brother was there at this time during his people's greatest need.

As soon as she spotted them, Éowyn lifted up her chin and began to sing. Thought the song was in the tongue of her people and not many could understand it, she alone carried the tune, sorrow evident in her voice. _Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. Hope he rekindled and in hope ended; over death, over dread, over doom lifted out of loss, out of life, unto long glory… _As she sang, the platform was lowered through the door of the green tomb and was at last set inside. Éowyn's voice faded as tears overtook her. Many remained as the cold wind whipped their cloaks about. Buffy held her breath as she stood there, staring at the feet of the man who had brought her into this world. She glanced down, blinking as her own emotions caught up with her.

It was four guards of both Gondor and Rohan that rolled the stone back into place. For a long while Éomer stood there. Buffy thought of leaving him for some privacy in his grief, yet he held onto her arm and would not permit her to leave. People were drifting back towards Meduseld and the cheerful party awaiting them within. Buffy watched as Merry suddenly appeared and stood at the front of the tomb, his small hand pressed against the stone. Though many could not have heard him, she did.

"Farewell, Théoden King. A father to me you were, if only for a little while." Turning, Merry saw the King and the woman standing next to him. Though Éomer was lost in his own grief, Buffy met Merry's eyes and inclined her head as a show of respect. He gave her a hesitant smile before moving off in the darkness.

"Come on," she said gently, tugging Éomer's hand as she turned about and started walking back towards Meduseld. "Your people await you."

Though reluctant, he followed her lead back towards the Golden Hall. Many had already gathered within and remained silent. Éowyn soon approached them, holding a filled goblet in her hands. "It is a custom of the Mark to celebrate the line of Kings as one has fallen," she whispered to Buffy, who was moving to sit with the other guests. "It is one of the many customs you will learn."

"Thanks," Buffy quickly muttered as she sat near Prince Faramir, who gave her a welcoming smile. The crowd grew silent as Éowyn handed Éomer the cup and the current King lifted the goblet and began to announce the Kings of old, sipping to their death after each name was listed. At last his own name was rejoiced and the crowd grew still again as the King set down his now-empty goblet and pleasantly announced the engagement of his sister to Prince Faramir. It was then that the crowd stirred rapidly to life.

x-x-x

Buffy awoke late the next morning. She had spent much of the previous night in the company of the Elves, much to Éomer's disgust. She had asked him why he was prejudiced so and he explained to her that the Elves of Lórien were feared amongst his people. She pressed him further and he finally admitted that Legolas had aimed a bow and arrow at him at their first meeting. He was still sore on the Woodlands being and Buffy smiled, suddenly understanding. There was a passing rivalry there; that much was obvious. She knew something was up when Legolas actually accepted a drinking challenge against Éomer. Buffy had chalked it up to over-stemming testosterone, but she knew better. The people were talking as well when she and Éomer left the Golden Hall hand-in-hand. Éowyn would reveal nothing save the fact that they were close friends and she was still his counsel.

This morning, sleeping in a bed that felt more like a cloud, she rose and dressed. The breakfast table was rather full when she arrived. She accepted a cup of tea from a passing servant and quickly made for the throne room where she was told Éomer was holding court.

Seeing him in his chair for the first time, he looked as though he belonged there. She hovered near the doorway, a soft smile on her face as she watched him speak with both Aragorn and Faramir. Upon spying her standing near the door with a cup in her hands, she was beckoned forward and welcomed warmly by the men present. Seeing Imrahil on the other side of the chair, she greeted him as well. "I have asked to remain behind for a time," Faramir said, bowing his head. "I fear that Éowyn is not yet ready to go."

"She's almost ready," Buffy said dryly. "But you know how women pack."

Imrahil also volunteered to remain behind with the Prince Faramir and Lady Éowyn. But Aragorn soon spoke that the time had come for the others to proceed. "We have a long journey ahead of us," he said by way of apology. "We will ride to Helm's Deep this eve and will be in Isengard by the passing of the moon."

But nothing prepared her for Aragorn's next statement. "My Queen wishes to remain at Edoras 'ere our return," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "She has no wish to proceed further with her kin, as there remain only bitter thoughts of passing there."

"It'll be nice to have her in my company for a few more days," Buffy said pleasantly, the anxious look disappearing from Aragorn's face. "I'll do my best to entertain her."

"She has expressed a hope in getting to know you better, lady," Aragorn replied, blowing his head.

"After what you said, how could I not want to know her?" Buffy asked, smiling.

"Then it is settled," Éomer said, rising. "I will ask the stable hands to prepare the horses for your journey north. I only ask that you take caution and great care, for things may be unsettled past the Gap."

Buffy watched as the men trailed off, leaving her and Éomer alone in the throne room. Watching as he sat again, looking thoughtful she couldn't help but choke out, "And you're a vision just sitting there like that."

Her gave her a confused look. "Am I supposed to seat differently upon my throne?" he asked distantly.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I think you look perfect… all King-like and manly and just… you know, perfect." Seeing the look on her face, he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"You mock me," he grunted.

She came up next to him and gave him a quick sideways hug. "Not this time." Kissing the edge of his shiny crown, she left his presence and returned to the streets of Edoras.

Seeing who she wanted to see, she moved towards Gandalf. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were riding towards them and they both looked as though they had something to say.

"I guess that this would be goodbye and farewell," Gandalf said, turning to appraise her.

"I guess it is," she said tightly, leaning forward and clasping his hand. "It's been an honor, Gandalf."

"Do not despair, dear child, for there is much left for you to do," he said, his eyes twinkling. "What I spoke of in Minas Tirith was just an inkling of the future now lying before you. I know of what Galadriel spoke of. A guardian of the innocent, indeed!"

"Guardian of the innocent?" she asked, the blood rushing from her face. Lady Galadriel was now pausing and gazing at her thoughtfully. "Oh, well… I guess I always knew my destiny wasn't about a crown."

"I guess it depends on which crown you are willing to wear."

Buffy glanced at Gandalf, confused as he moved away on Shadowfax.

"I will see you again, my dear. Do remember your word that you will travel with me as I prepare to journey West."

"I'll remember," Buffy said, watching as he moved briskly away. She then watched Merry leaving the company of Faramir and Éowyn, holding a horn and looking rather pleased. She moved forward and was nearly run over by Prince Imrahil's horse as he pulled it back towards the stable. Knowing she was about to lose her chance, she shouted "Merry!"

He frowned as he turned to face her. Yet a hug and a few depressing goodbyes later, Buffy felt thoroughly bummed as she stepped back. Pippin had also come to say goodbye, followed by Frodo and Samwise. They were such fun little beings, these Hobbits. She was going to miss them.

At last she saw no way around saying goodbye to the first person who had greeted her in this world. Galadriel was waiting patiently for her. "Do not grieve for those who pass," she stated in her misty tone, "for your time will soon come. I have seen a glimpse of your future and the power and destiny that awaits you, child. You think you know what you are and what you have become, but you have begun to learn." Bending down, she touched Buffy's face gently. "I too will pass into the West and my fellow ringbearers with me. Do not grieve for our time has come. Your time has just begun." Turning, she grasped the reigns to her horse and nudged it on. Buffy felt even more thoroughly confused as she watched Galadriel ride out with Celeborn. Riders were now spilling into the valley.

"Buffy!"

It was an excited voice, a child's voice. Buffy turned just as a figure ran into her. Buffy reached down and touched the top of the girl's shiny dark head. "Elena," she whispered, smiling as she lifted the small girl into her arms. A distance away, Faramir was pointing this out to Éowyn, who beamed with pleasure. To their right, a saddened Arwen turned to see her kin and friends passing south into the valley only to ride west to Helm's Deep. She smiled a sad smile as she held her hand up from beneath her lavender gauze. Aragorn, leading the riders west, raised his own hand as a silent promise that he would soon return to bring his wife to Gondor.

Buffy gently set Elena aside and left her in the company of the guards as she raced up the steps to Meduseld. Once inside, she raced through the throne room, which was once again empty and finding the doors she burst onto the veranda. A cold gust of wind nearly blew her backwards as she charged forward, her gown sweeping back dramatically. Racing to the edge, she felt her breath catch inside her throat. The riders were still moving out of the city and yet she felt as though she would never see some of these people again. Spying Arwen moving beneath her and both Faramir and Éowyn waving in the distance, she held out her own arm, holding it high in one last desperate wave. And then, finally, she shouted out. Éowyn spun around as did many of the guards, muttering in wonder. Faramir, holding Éowyn at his side, smiled and pointed behind the waving Slayer.

Éomer had appeared, looking rather haughty as he joined the younger woman. Pressing his hand to her waist, he lifted his own hand in farewell. Turning back, the riders suddenly picked up speed, moving west. Buffy could see four distinct figures among them, clearly Hobbits moving away. Lowering her arm, she gave Éomer a soft smile before retreating. Holding onto her for another moment, he drew her to him. So far they had only been alone away from the people and in the privacy of Gondor. No more would he hold these feelings at bay. As he kissed her under a sunlit sky a small roar rose from beneath them. The winds whipped around them. And yet, as they parted, Buffy's eyes widened in shock, for all they knew they were the only two people that existed here.

x-x-x

In the next chapter, the journey into the West begins.


	29. Farewell

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: It's just… sad. Our infant story is growing up… and if you want a response, you'll have to sign in, apparently.

_XinnLajgin__- Now you know how I felt. I was in tears when I read her first draft. And no, Gandalf was merely hinting at something that was highly and heavily addressed in this chapter. Buffy will not fall in love with someone else, but... there is a difference between marrying into royalty and being crowned royalty. Just a little hint for the last chapter._

_General Mac - Thank you! However, this story is almost over!_

_S.mary__- Thank you! That was so sweet of you!_

_Morena__Evensong - Thank you ever so very much. I will say that the Lord of the Rings series is my favorite book series in the world. As much as I love JK Rowling and Jane Evanovich, Tolkien rules my soul. It is a beautiful world to play in and I'm glad we had the idea and the opportunity to do so. I'm glad you've enjoyed the story._

_evilelvengoddess__- I know the Sunnydale part was small, but it was necessary. I felt that Buffy would relax more into her role if she knew everyone she loved and cared for was okay. However, I knew that if she dwelled too much on it, it would only trip the story up. I don't know. It sort of influences her future decisions as seen in this chapter. Thank you for reviewing!_

_B/legolaragorn lover - I honestly have no idea. I do have a few ideas I have been tossing around, but nothing to motivate the full-blown epics these have become. Katrina, however, has expressed an interest in writing another crossover, so we'll see where the wind takes us._

Chapter Summary: The Ringbearers past into the West.

Chapter Warning: Life has been busy. I finally had time to read through and make a few last minute edits. This is partially where the original story ended… and I think you can figure out where. There were just some… things that got switched around. Here we are at the penultimate ending. Enjoy!

x-x-x

**Chapter 29**

**Farewell**

_By Alyson Kay_

x-x-x

There was a scent of the upcoming summer in the air as a single white steed rode steadily towards the hilly city of Rohan. Edoras appeared a hazy beacon in cool sunshine and, for the first time in as long as he could remember, the city no longer resembled a graveyard. He recalled King Théoden's funeral and realized then that he had missed this city.

Two guards awaited him at the front gate. They both gazed at him, as though they couldn't believe their eyes.

"You wouldn't keep an old man waiting forever, would you?" he asked both guards politely after they had exchanged an incredulous glance. He felt like laughing, but held it in as the first guard came forward.

"What business do you have in the Mark?" he asked in a curt tone.

"I wish to see Lady Merilin," Gandalf replied. "Is she not in Edoras?"

The first guard gave a quick nod. "She is within the city. I will have her sent to you."

"Or perhaps you could allow this old man inside your revered city," Gandalf replied. "I have excellent standing with Lady Merilin."

"We only know her as Buffy," the second guard said, speaking up with a grimace. "She threatened to remove our entrails had we kept calling her Merilin." He dropped his voice dramatically. "King Éomer even considered an edict for her actions to become legal and commonplace."

Gandalf barely restrained a bemused smirk as the second guard rode over to unlock the gate and pull the heavy door open. Two more guards on foot appeared, pushing both doors open to allow Gandalf and Shadowfax entrance to the city. The first guard quickly whispered an instruction to the other two, who departed at once. "Buffy will meet you at Meduseld," the first guard said in a clear voice. "I have sent the others to look for her. This is her time to guard the city and as can tell, we have done what she has asked of us."

"She is a capable leader," Gandalf murmured as he passed them. "Perhaps I should pass on a hint of a promotion?"

"Oh, surely not, lord," the second guard said jovially. "We wish to remain in her services. King Éomer would hardly disagree with her assignment and she is free to move about Rohan as she pleases."

"That was most informative," Gandalf replied, turning Shadowfax slightly to say his goodbyes. "It has been a pleasure, gentlemen. Now, if you will excuse me, I must find my Slayer."

The two guards who had been ordered to find Buffy found her behind Meduseld. She had taken Elena for the afternoon and the two had sought refuge in a tree with particularly high limbs. Both were nestled on one of the higher branches, covered in a blanket. They were both sleeping when the soldiers arrived. One bent down to recover a book whose pages were fluttering in the brisk winds. "My lady?" one asked, reaching up and taking her ankle, giving it a brisk shake. "Buffy!"

She blinked and slowly turned to face him, her hazel eyes shining behind her gray blanket. "Oh," she sighed, yawning. "It's you."

"Mithrandir has arrived," he said solemnly. "He will meet you at Meduseld if you wish."

"Yeah," Buffy said, sitting up, but making sure that she didn't disturb the small girl sleeping on the other side of her. "I'm coming. Look out." She jumped off of the branch, landing in a slight crouch. The two men watched as she straightened, stretched and ran her fingers through her hair. "Well…" she said as they eyed her curiously. "You can go away now."

They finally caught her hint and hurried off. Shaking her head, she checked on Elena and, smiling, made her way to the Golden Hall, where Gandalf was waiting for her on the front stoop.

"Ah, Buffy," Gandalf said, taking in her wrinkled dress, unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. "You look rather well for a lady of your stature."

"Just because you're old doesn't mean I won't hit you," she growled, but she smiled as she said it. "It's been about two years now," she said, leaning against a column as she used her hand to stifle a yawn. "What brings you back to Rohan?"

"I believe if you remember our last conversation that I requested you to travel with me when I made my final journey," Gandalf replied serenely. "That time has now come."

The words hung like a chill between the two as Buffy straightened. "What?" she asked uncertainly. "You're… leaving?"

"My enemy has been defeated and my purpose has been served," Gandalf replied. "There is no nobler way to end this life and to move on to what begins a great new journey. The time has come for the Three Rings to pass into the West."

"I see," she said, although she sounded a bit tentative still.

"If I were to need a suitable successor, I would pass my knowledge into your more than capable hands," Gandalf said kindly. "I know you have high expectations of Rohan, but I could expect nothing less of you. I know that you have led a complicated lifetime in the past and would not wish to place you in that position again. But if the world were to come into mortal peril, I have the highest confidence that you would do whatever necessary to ensure the survival of those you hold most dear."

"I would," she said, and he saw that she was smiling somewhat. "It's not that I don't want to go Gandalf. It's just that…"

"The men would no doubt miss you," Gandalf said in a conversational tone. "As would the King. Speaking of such matters, where is Éomer?"

"He will return this evening from the Eastfold," Buffy replied, folding her arms. "And this has nothing to do with the men or with him."

"I will leave come dawn," Gandalf said. "There is no time to waste and I have given you enough time to set your affairs in order."

"Okay," Buffy said, unfolding her arms. "You've got yourself a traveler." A sudden cold breeze came from the mountains and she lifted her hands to cover herself. "Even after two years, this weather still takes some getting used to. A cold weather fan, I am not. Come on… I'll get you a room and a warm meal. It's the least I could do after all you've done for me."

Gandalf followed Buffy into Meduseld and took her up on her offer. After a warm bowl of stew and a mug of tea, Gandalf felt refreshed. His Slayer, on the other hand, sat at the opposite end of the long table, staring at a goblet she did not touch. Her face wore a troubled expression, yet neither spoke. After swallowing the last of his stew, he finally chose to speak up. "You have been silent."

"Yeah," she said offhandedly. "I'm okay."

"Your demeanor would suggest otherwise," Gandalf pried gently. "I will not pretend that my former pupil is not troubled."

Buffy gazed up at him inquiringly before shaking her head slightly. "I don't know," she said at last. "I'm doing what I think is the right thing to do. But I—" Her words were cut off by a flurry of activity. Elena was led in by one of the Meduseld guards and she sped over to Buffy.

"Why did you not wake me?" the girl asked, glancing questioningly up at the small blonde.

"I'm sorry," Buffy apologized, looking immensely relieved by Elena's diversion. "Why don't you sit down and eat something? You hardly ate anything at lunch." Elena complied by pulling herself into one of the large chairs and eyeing the empty plate before her with interest. Taking notice of the intrigued look on the Wizard's face, she gently introduced the two again. "Elena, you remember Gandalf, right?"

"Gandalf the White?" the little girl asked, turning to gaze at Gandalf with interest. "Buffy has told me many stories about you."

"They were all good, I hope," Gandalf said, smiling at the younger girl. Despite the fact they were not related by blood, there was a certain similarity between the two. They both had fair hair and clear, hazel eyes.

"Well, Buffy told me about one time with a sword and your staff and—"

"Elena, this is the dining table," Buffy interrupted, a faint flush appearing on her cheeks. "What are Éomer's rules?"

"No talk of blood, gore or eviscerations at the table," Elena chanted as though the words were well-rehearsed. "I understand, Buffy."

Buffy leaned across and patted Elena's head. "Good girl." Turning, she began spooning large amounts of food from various platters onto her daughter's plate. Gandalf watched her in fascination until at last she pulled back and Elena tucked in. Gandalf seemed surprised that one so small could consume so much. Then again, he thought wryly, her adopted mother could eat an entire crate of vegetables and a roast pig and still manage to make room for more. Apparently they were both blessed with speedy metabolisms and large palettes.

After lunch, Elena was sent off to play with the children who had just gotten out of school. Buffy followed her as far as the stables before disappearing inside. Taking leave of her, Gandalf gave himself a tour of the once-familiar Meduseld. Little had changed since his last tour, which had been more than three years before. The throne room was empty except for a single chair with a large banner behind it. Streaks of sunlight filled the large room. Small vats of burning oil decorated the corners. Standards past and present hung on the walls. It was a comforting room to see, although he was disappointed by the fact that only one chair sat upon the raised dais in the back of the room. He left the empty hall behind; somehow it didn't feel right for him to be there.

He thought of Shadowfax, his Meara steed that he had returned to the royal family at last. He thought that with a borrowed steed from Rohan he could avoid trouble with her King. He knew that Buffy could have done great things with the Mearas. His only regret was that she was not a part of this royal family. Neither was she married to the King, as he had expected by now. She was more stubborn than he thought. It really was a great pity, but in a way, it made this entire journey that much easier.

x-x-x

It was nearing sunset by the time King Éomer and his knights returned from the east. Near exhaustion and tired of riding for nearly two days straight, he welcomed the sight of Meduseld. Though darkness had descended over Edoras, he could feel the light and warmth from within.

Buffy was inside her room, packing her traveling bag as Elena hopped on her bed behind her. Though Elena was making an attempt at asking hard questions, Buffy hadn't answered one. She didn't know when she would be back and she wasn't really sure why she was going in the first place. She couldn't really explain why Gandalf was leaving nor could she explain exactly who the White Wizard was. Of course, there was that whole promise thing. But she had made a promise more than a year ago that she had chosen this over being the wizard's pupil. It was going to be hard to tell Éomer differently. He was not going to be happy when he discovered his second Marshal was leaving for a long journey. The worst part was, she didn't know if she would ever come back. Knowing that there was a distant road before her, her surroundings appeared differently. Everything had a new feeling to it, as though she had just arrived and was glancing around for the first time.

"Buffy?" Elena asked in a small voice behind her. "Are you all right?"

Realizing she was standing over her bag with a stack of under-things in her arms, she quickly added them to her bag and turned to face the small child. "I'm sorry. I'm okay." Seeing from the open hole in her wall facing east, darkness had fallen. "You getting tired yet? You were out playing for hours this afternoon."

Elena, whose cheeks were slightly wind-burnt, nodded enthusiastically. "We took a ride into the valley," she replied cheerfully.

Buffy felt a small sense of pride for this girl. "I'm glad you had a good time," she added, tucking a blade and holder into her bag before sealing it. "It's good to get out and play."

"But the time will come where I must attend school," Elena said, finally sitting down after bouncing on Buffy's bed for the past hour as her adoptive parent packed her bag.

"Oh, Elena," Buffy said, dropping her bag by the door and hurrying to the girl's side, "don't grow up too fast. There will always be time to learn. You've been learning while you've lived here, haven't you?"

"Yes," Elena replied, her brow furrowed. "But I wish to go to school with the others."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait for autumn now," Buffy chided as she retrieved her traveler's cloak from beneath Elena's feet. "Besides, summer's the best time of all. No school, no learning… no nothing," she grinned. Dropping her cloak on top of her bag, she was about to return when a knock sounded on the door behind her. Elena quickly stood up and began dancing from foot to foot again. Buffy called out, "It's open!". The door creaked open and Éomer appeared, wearing a stony expression. He looked exhausted as he walked into the room, welcoming the cool air. "Hello," she greeted him as he walked in. "I was hoping you'd show up."

His eyes drifted from a giddy seven-year-old to the traveling bag and cloak near the doorway. "The whispers are true, then?" he asked her lightly.

Buffy felt a sudden bout of shame and gave a slow nod. "Yeah," she said, biting her lip. She slowly gestured to Elena, who had jumped off of the bed onto the floor. Éomer seemed to steady himself and turned to the small girl blinking up at him.

"You must be tired," he said with his tired smile, examining the girl's eyes. "You look dead on your feet. Come, now." Leaning down, he lifted Elena into his arms and made for the stairs. As he stepped into the loft, Buffy heard them talking quietly. Stepping over to the fire, she began undressing. As she pulled on her nightdress she heard heavier footfalls behind her.

"When will you go?" he asked quietly, sidestepping her to tend to her fire. She watched as the red embers set his face into shadow and shivered slightly.

"Dawn tomorrow," Buffy replied, crossing the room and attempting to fix her bed after Elena had jumped on it.

"When I was told that the White Wizard had returned, I thought it folly," Éomer replied. There was a hard tone to his voice now that Buffy wasn't sure she liked.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, but I didn't know he was coming," Buffy admitted. "He just showed up and said that he was headed towards the Havens."

Éomer sat down on the edge of her bed, watching as she continued to shuffle back and forth. "To this, you agreed to?" he asked caustically.

Buffy paused, holding her thick winter cloak to her body before sighing. "I told him I would go about two years ago," she said, going along with the truth. "If I had known then where I would be now, I would take it back."

He saw that she was looking troubled. "It is the Wizard's fault for bringing this unto you," he deadpanned. "But I had your word that you would give this up."

"I don't know what his plans for me are," she added, looking at him. She looked guilty. "I really don't know what to say. The way everything has gone… the timing just sucks right now."

Éomer, who had been looking forward to returning home to spend time with her soon found that he would much rather be handling property disputes in the Eastfold. Before he could ask what was forefront on his mind, she interrupted his thoughts.

"Don't ask me when I'll be back," she said, hanging the cloak inside her armoire. "I don't even know where it is we're going."

"That was not what I wished to ask you," he replied, rising and moving towards her. "I was concerned that you are unhappy here."

She turned to look at him, scandalized. "What makes you think that?" she asked, aghast.

"You are one who has been on great terms with many beings in this land," he began uncertainly. "I fear that you are unsettled and long for another life, away from all of this. I have not given you all that you have been looking for."

She saw the guilt in his face and reached up to touch his cheek. "Don't even think for a moment that you haven't made a difference," she whispered. "You gave me a life, a job, a home… what kind of person am I to decide that I don't want that anymore? I'm only doing this because I promised him I would two years ago. It doesn't mean I don't want this life, I do. I just have to do this."

"I fear that you will not return," he said, watching as she moved away from him. "All who go to the Grey Havens take the passage west. You are a friend of many and hold a great respect amongst those who matter… they will not turn you away should you decide to take the journey."

Buffy swallowed hard, glad that her back was facing him. "I don't know what's going to happen," she confessed. "I don't know what to expect. All I know is that he's leaving to go off into some unknown land." She felt a comforting hand on her back and felt all of her resolve begin to crumble. "I don't want to leave all of this behind. I have so many plans for what I want to do… and now I don't know if I'll ever be able to do anything. I don't want to let this go."

His opposite arm came to rest over her shoulders as he drew her back into him. "These thoughts must have been causing you great distress," he said slowly.

"You have no idea," she replied sadly. "And here you were, coming back from four weeks on the open range. I'm sorry I ruined your homecoming."

He leaned down to press a kiss upon her head. "You have ruined nothing, Buffy," he sighed. "I only wish we could have more time together." He glanced towards the loft and felt her body tauten in his grasp. "What of Elena?"

"I want her to stay here," Buffy said in a small voice. "I couldn't imagine her living with anyone else. And she wants to go to school this fall. That girl has a thirst for knowledge." With a fond smile, Elena was reminding her somewhat of Willow and her desire to learn and gain a great education. "She's so smart… she deserves everything in this world and I wish I could give it to her."

"You gave her the greatest gift of all," Éomer replied, still holding onto her. "You have given her your heart."

"I do love her," Buffy admitted. "She's like the daughter I never had. Maybe she's the daughter I'll never have."

She felt his grip tighten slightly before he released her. "You should rest," he decided as he faced her. "You have a long journey ahead of you."

"You look tired," Buffy replied as she eyed her bed longingly.

"I have not slept in days," he admitted, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I must soon attend to things at Helms Deep."

She let out a low whistle and smirked. "We have such great timing, don't we?"

"I only wish that things could have been different," he added with a small smile of his own. "But perhaps such things were not meant to be."

There was an awkward silence the fell between them. Then, with a soft goodnight and a parting wave, Éomer left her room. She walked over and sealed the door and rested her forehead against the cold wood. Sighing, she pulled back and threw herself onto her bed, her thoughts already miles away. For two years now she had toyed with the idea that she could actually be someone of some influence. She was a Marshal and could wield a sword better than most of the men stationed beneath her. However, she wanted more. And now, it seemed, she may never get that chance.

Gandalf entered the stables just after dawn the following morning to find that his Slayer was not only awake, but Sador was already dressed to go. She was next to the mare, threading her traveling bag onto her saddle. Her face wore a tired expression that seemed to spell gloom about her. Gandalf set his own things aside and gazed openly at her. "You are awake early," he said conversationally.

"Well, we've got a big day ahead of us," she said, not looking at him. Satisfied that her traveling bag was not going to fall off during their journey, she lifted Sador's reins and led her to the open end of the stable.

After she had left the stables, Gandalf joined her a few moments later, an older horse at his side.

"What, no Shadowfax?" she asked, glancing at the Wizard in surprise.

"I have returned her to the royal family," Gandalf replied quietly. "You see, not all of us have excellent standing with the King of Rohan."

To his surprise, she looked saddened at his words. Lifting her chin, she spied a figure on the precipice overlooking the city. She could recognize him from anywhere. "Give me a minute?" she asked, glancing at the Wizard. Seeing who she had been looking at, he nodded. She left Sador in his care and quickly swept away.

Éothain suddenly appeared at his elbow, gazing at Sador. "What journey is this?" he asked curiously, gazing at the horse that she had recently given to him.

"The final journey," Gandalf replied steadily, his eyes on a sudden figure that had appeared on the high deck. "Worry not, my dear First Marshal. This horse will be returned to you, as will the one I ride. If she says something, she will follow it through to the end."

As the door closed swiftly behind her, Buffy knew that she had been given away. But she couldn't leave without saying goodbye. Turning, Éomer saw walking tremulously towards him. She wore a dark tunic and trousers with laced boots and the emerald cloak he had given her for her life day (or as she called it, her birthday) the year before. It had come with a standard of her own, as well as a fashionable new wardrobe made for her lack of height despite the fact she was only a few years younger than he. He was pleased to see that she wore it now, but there was a light in her eyes he wasn't sure he liked. He turned away from her slightly and stared out into the valleys. "You should go."

"I'm about to," she replied. "I just… I had to say goodbye."

He took a great breath and decided to finally be honest with his true intentions and emotions. It was difficult for him to talk of his feelings, but even more difficult still was the fact that there was a great chance he would never see her again. "I had hoped that you would accept Rohan as your home. This land, this _California_ you spoke of… Rohan it is not. I know that Rohan could not hold your interest for long. I knew that your heart belonged elsewhere, and yet I had hoped you could look past that."

"I did," she murmured, reaching out for him. He let her hand fall on his arm, yet he forced himself to continue.

"When I asked you to choose between being a Wizard's pupil and a lady of the Mark, my intentions were not clear. These people have accepted you as one of them. I have accepted you as someone I could see by my side for the rest of our lives. Whatever choice you made, I had hoped—"

"I made the right choice," she said, her voice rising. "I chose Rohan. This… this is just a promise I made to a Wizard before I came back here. There is still so much to do here. You know that. You know that I can do it, too, or you wouldn't have given me my position. Don't get me wrong," she continued at his dubious expression, "I don't want to go. But if I took back my word now…"

"As I have said plainly, you are a friend to many," he replied. "There is no fault in that." Seeing the Wizard's expression as he led the two horses along with his First Marshal from the stables, he slowly lowered his arm and her hand fell aside. "You must go. You must do what you will."

He heard her sigh as she moved off. Before she reached the door, her hand inches from the cold wood; she lifted her head and turned to face him. "I loved you."

He glanced round at her, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door was already swinging shut. She had disappeared. He frowned slightly as he re-thought her words. Finally, he glanced back to see two horses heading briskly west from Edoras.

x-x-x

Though a long journey it was, Buffy couldn't deny she learned nothing. They had headed west past Isengard, or what the Ents had turned it into. It proved to be a worthy sanctuary, one that she would have liked to visit at a time. He took her along the coast to the old battle plains and then straight north to Rivendell. The Elvish paradise was beautiful, she thought as they strode over the bridge. She knew that more than a month had passed since they had started their journey, for he wanted to show her every single rock and flower that existed. Though she grew tired of his long lectures, she had a feeling that what she learned now would be with her forever no matter where she went.

Rivendell was a sanctuary to itself. She was reunited with Lord Elrond and, to her great surprise, Lady Galadriel. A small reprieve lasted a half week as Buffy found herself surrounded by a paradise. If she had ever went on a spa retreat, she would have imagined something like this.

"You like it here."

It wasn't a question. Buffy glanced behind her to see one of the twin sons of Elrond approaching her. His face wore a slight frown as he saw her saddened expression. "It's soothing," she confessed, glancing back over the river. The warm summery air was perfect, she decided. They had ridden from Rohan, which was still in the chill of late spring into a deep summer in an Elvish paradise. They had ridden into the realm without need for a cloak or blanket. Even Sador welcomed the Elves warmly.

"If you were to spend a lifetime here, you would see it for what it truly was," the son replied, glancing around at the lush, green surroundings. "This was created as a place to hide from great enemies."

"Really?" she asked. "Cool."

He did not ask her to elaborate on their cultural differences. Instead, he bowed his head and retreated back to the small haven behind her.

This was one thing she did not enjoy about traveling. Moving from one battle plain to another was one thing, because her Slayer sense was keen enough to pick up past signals that really suggested that this land was scarred and marked with the blood of many. It was when they were stopped that she let her thoughts dwell on the past. She soon realized that she missed Rohan. She missed the steady pace. She missed the battle drills and the training and the scouting and everything about her job. She missed that life. She was now facing the life as a Wizard's pupil, as Éomer had called it.

She felt her thoughts sober and she turned away from the bridge and the gallant river flowing freely below her. Whenever her thoughts turned to Éomer, she felt a great sense of regret. Why hadn't she done something before she had left? Would it have been easier to take a journey knowing she had something to return to? She knew she had something worth returning to, but the journey beyond was glimmering ahead of her, both beautiful and forbidden. There was a past that she was content with, but there was the unknown future awaiting her.

One thing was for certain: these Elves knew how to dress themselves. She gazed lovingly at the softest material she had ever worn. Lightweight and a beautiful shade of old gold, this gown made her feel carefree. Despite her love for her leather fighting gear, she really loved dressing up if the occasion called for it.

Crossing her arms, she returned to her haven, but she felt as though her heart just hadn't caught up with her yet.

x-x-x

In Edoras in the Golden Hall, Éomer set down his spoon. Across the table was Elena, eating her second helping of vegetables. It really was amazing how much this small girl could eat. He watched her fondly for a few moments before Elena took notice. Buffy had often told him how great of a father he was going to be one day. It never did occur to him until now that Buffy's absence meant that Elena was now his responsibility.

"What is it?" Elena asked in a small voice, reaching for her goblet. He hid a smile as she practically had to kneel on her seat to reach it. She was still so small…

"It is nothing," he replied, turning back to his meat and potatoes.

"Were you thinking of Buffy?" she asked timidly.

He glanced up at her again and saw her scrutinizing look. For some reason, she looked very similar to Buffy at this moment. "I was attempting not to," he admitted. "Thinking about her is painful at times."

"She has been gone for so long," Elena said sadly. "She did not say if she would return."

Éomer didn't have the heart to tell the girl where she was meaning to go. "Know this," he said gently, pushing his plate aside. "She cares for you very much. She loves you as a daughter."

Elena looked rather flattered at these words. "To hear a great King tell me that a woman I consider a mother loves me as a daughter," she marveled softly. "I am relieved. But I am sad because I do not know if I can ever tell her that I love her as a mother. She took me in when I had nothing. She gave me something I had always desired… a family." She paused as she shyly eyed the King. Already he had noticed a keen difference to her appearance. She normally wore a tunic and trousers as her foster mother did. But since Buffy had departed before mid-Summer, she now wore the same long gowns his sister, Éowyn, had once favored. Never before had he seen this transformation. He was astonished how much like her she appeared.

Éomer smiled gently at her. "She has a way of showing great strength in such matters," he told her. His smile saddened as he glanced back at his plate and reached for his goblet. "Though you are not kin by blood, you look like her."

Elena smiled timidly at him. "Her guards have told me the same," she admitted. Her smile was more subdued as she turned back to her plate. "I miss her."

"I miss her, too."

That said, they exchanged a warm look before returning to their dinner in silence.

x-x-x

Once they had left Rivendell, Buffy and Gandalf journeyed north. Gandalf had confessed to her on the morning they left that Galadriel and Elrond would be taking the journey to the Havens. They would be leaving shortly after, but Gandalf also had one last stop on their journey north.

Buffy was surprised then when they came upon Hobbits. She was stunned to learn that these small creatures lived so far away. They were so small and yet they moved quite quickly. The Shire was lush and green with small grass-covered houses fit for beings three feet tall. But this journey did not seem to be in vain. Gandalf also admitted that they were picking up a few new passengers.

"We're taking Hobbits with us?" she asked in surprise one warm morning as they journeyed through the country. There were Hobbit children following them at a safe distance, but the whispers were still distracting nonetheless.

"There is one in particular I am anxious for you to meet," Gandalf replied, drawing his horse to a halt before a small hut with an unwelcoming look to it. "If you would please remain here, I will return shortly."

Buffy waited for a few minutes until he returned with a familiar Hobbit wearing a big smile. "Frodo!" she exclaimed, dismounting her steed and sweeping the smaller figure into her arms. "I didn't know you were coming with us!"

"I must first see to my Uncle," Frodo admitted once Buffy had set him back onto his two feet. "I am pleased to see that you have come," he added in an undertone. "We did not spend much time together."

"No, we didn't," she agreed. "It'll be good to catch up."

During the course of the next few days, they managed to gain access to a small wagon and soon they were moving westward. It was yet another long road, but this time it was with the scent of autumn in the air. They stopped one night and camped out. She sat on a small rock on her rather sore derrière and watched as four Hobbits gathered together for what may have been their last time together. It was wonderful seeing these beings again, she thought, her chin upon her fist. Not to mention, Samwise was a great cook.

Much had happened since they had parted, she learned. Samwise was a husband and a father. Frodo had completed his book. Even Merry and Pippin had gotten a life apart from mischief. Buffy found her thoughts dwelling painfully on her plans for the future and then decided it was time to stop thinking about it.

At last they arrived at the Havens. Buffy had departed from the Hobbit party the day before to ride ahead with the Elves coming from the south. As she arrived at the haven, she found an ancient city that her Slayer senses told her was filled with both history and legacy. Dismounting from her horse, she smoothed her long, silver gown and approached the Elves now dismounting apart from their escorts.

"I am certain that we have never been escorted by a Lady of the Mark before," Lord Elrond told her as she approached. He smiled at her befuddled expression. Her expression slowly changed to awe as she saw the ship awaiting them, standing erect at port. She slowly moved towards it as though daring to see it as a dream. It was a stunning sight; a swan perfectly perched upon water like silver glass with nothing but the open sea before them. Elrond saw that distinct longing in her eyes but knew it was not his place to question her motives for coming with them.

_And the road goes ever on… _

Buffy craned her neck to see a small wagon approaching them led by a single horse. Gandalf sat atop the wooden bench, his Wizard's hat slightly crooked and his pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He sang jovially and from within the carriage came several smaller voices. Once they had stopped at the landing, Gandalf waited for the others to get out before leading them all down by the docks.

Buffy let out a long breath as she saw the Elves move forward to stand near the landing. Galadriel glanced appealingly at the ship before gazing at the young woman who stood near her horse. Her head was tilted to the side and she was smiling somewhat. "What troubles your young mind?" she asked inquiringly, stepping closer to the younger maiden.

Buffy shrugged as she glanced at the Elven Lady. "Nothing, really. What was it we were told to do… clear our mind of troubles, put the past behind us?"

"That is what we do," Galadriel agreed. "However, this is also a past in which we have nothing left to live for."

Buffy's clear gaze clouded as she looked at Galadriel in confusion. "Huh?"

Her patient smile returned. "Why have you come on this journey, child? Is your future not clear with a country to lead and alliances to bear? Have you not learned much on your journey?"

Buffy thought back over the past two months and realized that Gandalf had been teaching her. Sure, the songs got annoying to the point where she threatened to tackle him off of his horse. But there was more. There had been history lessons of peoples she had never dreamed of before, much less fancied meeting. There were long genealogies of long-dead Kings that had been heaped into her mind. She had learned that Longbottom leaf was as deadly as it smelled, and it looked dangerously like weed. There was just too much she had gotten into her head during the past two months. She had thought it was because she was about to leave this world behind, but now…

"Yes, I have," Buffy said slowly. Gandalf saw his young charge in the company of the Elves and quietly wandered over, leaving the Hobbits to slowly come into the harbor behind him.

"Could you turn away from a future so bright and so beautiful?" he asked Buffy, who gave him a small nod in welcome.

"You promised that you would hold your end of the bargain as long as you could," Galadriel added as Buffy shook her head. "Your friends… your sister count on you. I, too, have seen what you have. They would want you to live a life that is complete and not wrought with sorrows and regret. You will not find joy should you cross into the West. You will not find peace because it is not who you are. You are a strong, able leader amongst those that need you." She paused as she reached out to touch Buffy's face. "This journey is not meant for you."

"What?" Buffy asked, as though waking from a deep sleep as she glanced from both Galadriel to Gandalf. "What do you mean?"

"You are not ready to board this ship and pass into the West," Gandalf concluded softly, seeing the look on her face. "If you were to cross those shores, you would find a beauty unlike any other. You would find a wide green horizon under a swift sunrise but never would you see those you love and care for. Never would you see the land you call home. Never would you find a peace in a life of war because there is no battle and no darkness. That is where your heart truly belongs."

"But… I thought you wanted me to come with you," Buffy stuttered, utterly confused. "I thought that this journey was going to prepare me for what I'd see _over _there."

Gandalf gently shook his head. "My words are to prepare you for your future here and now. There may come a time when your toils have weakened you and you have grown weary with your lands but until that day comes… if you leave now, you will regret it forever."

A fire like Buffy had never felt in Middle-earth began to stir in her abdomen. Everything seemed to be piecing together. Glancing up at her mentor, she started, "Gandalf…"

"I fear we will not see one another again," he said sadly as he leaned over to embrace his best student. "You have given me a pride… to know my words have done some good."

"I won't let you down," she said in a small voice. Her eyes glistened as she held him for a moment before they parted. "I just hate goodbyes."

"We will see you again," Galadriel confirmed, giving Gandalf her haughty look. "There will be a great time, but I have seen what great things you do and the great woman you will become. You must follow your heart."

Buffy nodded bravely, giving them both a dewy look. As Elrond and the Shipwright came over to see as to the delay, Buffy lifted her dress and stepped away from the others. Gandalf paused before moving nearer. "Ride hard," he said quietly.

"I will," she replied. She watched as he returned to the Hobbits, but the Elves were already boarding the ship. Sniffling back the few tears that came, she stood stoically at the side of her steed until at last the ship cast off from its moorings and began the long journey West. Even as the other Elves had departed and the other Hobbits had gone, she remained until she could no longer see the ship from the shore.

Turning, she brushed Sador's gentle face before whispering, "Let's go home, girl."

It was a long, hard ride through the autumn. After a brief respite in Rivendell, even the Elvish paradise seemed to lose some of its luster. The twin sons of Elrond were warm and courteous hosts, but she missed Elrond's presence. Already it felt as though a gaping hole had opened where the leadership of this world had once stood.

And then she realized that it wasn't empty… it was simply waiting for someone else to step in.

It was nearing November when she finally reached Isengard. Already the former tower of Orthanc looked foreign next to the blue wading pools and stone bridges that decorated a peaceful garden. She spent the night under thousands of stars and awakened with a renewed sense of longing. She had not seen Rohan since early June.

Sador bore her briskly across the great plains of Rohan until at last she came upon Helm's Deep. Though the keep was fully manned, most of the men under guard were once under her care. They gazed at her in wonder as she returned. Her eyes had softened and her shoulders had narrowed and yet she carried with her a great resilience.

The following evening, she finally rode into Edoras. Knowing what she wanted to do more than ever, she left her horse in the care of the stables, knowing it was the last time she would ever take Sador on such a journey. She gently rubbed her nose and said, ever so quietly, "Thank you… but I think your war days are over."

Sador tossed her magnificent head as the stable hand pulled her away. Buffy waited until her horse was out of sight before turning back and lowering the hood on her traveling cloak. It was now or never.

The doors to the throne room burst open, revealing no one within. Spotting the door guard before he left, she moved to intercept him. "Have you seen Éomer?"

"He was to return this morn, dear Lady," the man replied with a slight bow. "His errands have been running long."

"Thanks," Buffy said, turning immediately away and heading towards her room. Dropping her traveling bag near the door, she walked into the familiar room and removed her cloak, the material falling into a pool near her feet. What surprised her, however, was the small figure resting in her bed.

Elena was sound asleep, her hair brushed away from her face. Smiling softly, Buffy moved over to the bed and sat upon it, watching as the girl slept. She looked so innocent, Buffy thought, reaching over to stroke her soft, golden hair. She would do everything in her power to save her. She would give her life…

"Buffy?"

"Hey," she said, smiling at Elena's sleepy gaze as it fixed itself on hers. "How are you?"

"You have returned."

"Didn't you think I would?" Buffy asked softly.

"King Éomer said…"

"I know what he said. But you shouldn't listen to him."

"But—"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving for a long, long time."

"Do you really mean so?"

"Of course I do. I'm not one to go back on my promises."

"Buffy?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be all right if I call you Mum?"

Buffy thought this over as the young girl stared inquiringly up at her with her sleepy eyes. "I suppose it would be all right," she whispered, bending down to kiss the girl's temple. And she stayed by her side until Elena had returned to sleep.

x-x-x

It was a welcome sunrise, Éomer thought as he rode into the city. He was a day behind his tightly-kept schedule but such things could be looked over. He had many things to deal with to the north. He certainly did not wish to be in this empty Golden Hall. There seemed to be less laughter and more intensity without the usual charm of his Second Marshal.

The door warden greeted him with a funny smile yet would say nothing as he pulled the door open and bowed slightly to him. The interior guards said nothing as well as Éomer stalked past them. He paused, cast them a curious look, and walked right into his throne room.

The problem was, there was already a figure atop it. Wearing a black cloak pulled over her golden hair, Éomer blinked as he drew near. Was she real? Was this moment real?

Had she indeed returned to Rohan?

He bent down and gently shook her shoulder. "Awaken," he commanded.

She did, blinking and pulling her hair away from her face as she uncurled her legs from his seat. "Oh," she uttered softly, quickly getting to her feet. Her cloak fell behind, leaving her traveling gown and her worn tunic over it. "I didn't… I'm sorry…"

"What magic is this?" he asked quietly. "When did you return?"

"Last night," Buffy replied. "I… I wanted to be sure that I saw you when you got back. I wanted you to hear it from me and not from someone else."

"This I understand," Éomer replied, taking the strange behavior of his guards in stride. "Please, continue." He took the chair she had abandoned, yet she would not look at him. Her back was facing him and her body had tensed as though she were struggling to say something.

"I've been through a lot these past few months, but nothing compared to what might happen tomorrow or the day after that," she began slowly. "But I began to realize as I was standing there at that shore knowing that my life could be gone just like that… I would regret it. I would regret not knowing what could have happened or what I could have done. I'm ready to be this person that you have all been hoping I am. You'll always have the Slayer. But now I'm ready…"

Éomer slowly stood up and walked up to her. She was facing him now, her face shiny with exhaustion. "What say you?"

"I don't know what'll happen, but I do know I'm not going anywhere," she replied as he continued to move closer. "I don't _want _to go anywhere."

His hand reached out to cup her small face as she smiled up at him. "Are you not a mirage or a glimpse of a face long forgotten? Are you not saying words I have so longed to hear to appease my heart which has been shattered?"

"I meant what I said the day I left," she said boldly, her eyes meeting his. "I love you. It just took me a while to realize it… I guess I always was the last one to know."

His eyes were filled with wonder as he bent his forehead down to rest against hers. "This must be a dream," he breathed, "for I have not slept in days and I have heard the words—"

His words were cut off as she threaded her arms around his neck and brought his face to hers. "Oh, shut up."

x-x-x

In the last full chapter, a fitting end with a short epilogue to follow.


	30. Coronation

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Complete. Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: This is for everyone who has read this story… we are quite happy with how this story ended up. We really appreciate all feedback great and small, evil and nice and all the rest. As for a sequel, Katrina gave me an actual outline that would concern about five years in the future dealing with war and a plot against all the royal firstborns. I would really like to go ahead with it as soon as this semester is over and we have _one month _(thank goodness) of winter break. We need to recover from the past month.

Chapter Summary: Buffy fulfills her oath and the peasants rejoice.

Chapter Warning: This chapter was written back in oh, July sometime. After not looking at it for around six months, I finally glanced at it. Two things struck me as being strange. One, it is _very _sappy. Two, it's quite long. Do enjoy. There will be a short epilogue to follow.

x-x-x-x

**Chapter 30**

**Coronation**

_By Alyson Kay and Katrina Claire_

x-x-x-x

There was a hint of excitement in the air as the winter turned into spring. Already the county of Rohan was preparing for its biggest celebration in a very long time and everywhere one turned, they could hear the plans being made and the excited murmurs from the villagers. Even those in the untamed Westfold spoke highly of the upcoming fête.

Yet life in Edoras was marked by the return of the longest and hardest winter on record, followed by the fastest breeding season they had ever experienced. More than a fair few foals were running amok, and Buffy found herself the privileged one to supervise their training. Considering it had been more than three years since she'd learned to ride a horse, this was a fair learning experience for her. But it was dreadfully boring, as though watching grass grow. It was just one of the painless duties she had been asked to see to. After all, many would frown upon their future Queen doing anything to put her life in peril ere she was actually crowned. Disagreed with this decision as she did (which caused Meduseld itself to tremble), she decided it was the best choice after all. She _despised _showing any weakness, especially in front of the men who snickered at the thought of their formidable captain being reduced to a lady. She did it with gritted teeth and with a sour mood most of the time, although she did take time far, far away from Edoras and longed to get away from Rohan altogether to escape the insanity.

Yet there were sometimes she could not get away.

This is where she was found on a late March morning, surveying over a hundred foals being put through their paces, cantering back and forth over the uneven fields. She was perched atop a fence post, which was the only way to ensure that she wouldn't fall asleep, when she heard footsteps behind her.

"My Lady."

"What it is with this 'my lady' stuff again?" she asked, turning in annoyance to look at the anxious young woman standing slightly behind her, as though afraid of rebuke. "I thought I put a stop to that two years ago."

"Forgive me," the woman said in a low voice. "It is just that Éothain has returned and wishes to have words with you. He brings news of the progress."

"Oh, great," she added sarcastically as she slid off her perch, dusting off her tunic and trousers. "The only other thing that'll put me to sleep is all this planning."

"He considers it a great honor to have been chosen by yourself to assist in the completion of that which you have asked," the woman replied, looking slightly aghast.

"Okay, so what news is there?" Buffy asked as both women began walking back towards the backside of Edoras.

"He has spoken of its near-completion. Your date will be kept as long as the weather continues to cooperate," the woman said, lifting a hand to gesture to the weak sunlight filtering through high clouds ahead. "This will not be the mid-Summer's ceremony King Éomer had been hoping for, but it will come in the fifth month."

"It's called May," Buffy said firmly.

"Yes, my Lady," the woman said, bowing her head.

"Would you stop?" Buffy asked testily. "If you expect me to be a ruler, you're going to have to quit with the head bowing and the whole subservient thing because that is so not how I want to run a country."

"How fortunate for you that King Éomer tends to agree," the woman said, smirking slightly now. She seemed to be enjoying this torture. Buffy paused a few paces ahead and saw that Éothain was waiting with a number of other horses near the back gate of the city.

"Now do I want to see this?" she asked the woman.

"It would be of great benefit to us both if you did," the woman replied honestly.

Buffy scoffed as she stepped forward, smoothing her slightly wrinkled clothing. Éothain glanced at her and quickly dismounted at once, stepping forward to grasp her hand. "My Lady."

She rolled her eyes towards the younger woman behind her and swore she heard her giggle. Attempting to keep a smile firmly planted on her lips, she turned to the Marshal and nodded. "Let's see what you got, Mister First Marshal." He gestured her forward. Then, as though waiting for her, another horse rode up, tossing her magnificent, though aging head. "Sador," she said, smiling as she greeted her former steed. The horse came up and buried her sweet head into Buffy's shoulder, very pleased to see her former master.

"She has been well kept at my stable," Éothain assured her. "However, for the purpose of what you are about to see, I thought that she might be of use."

"It is good to see you again, girl," Buffy said, gently stroking Sador's nose. "I trust that the grumpy Marshal has been taking good care of you?"

"The best of care," Éothain spoke up, nodding. "She has earned her keep. That much is for certain."

"Good girl," Buffy said, leaning closer to her horse. "Keep him working for his money." Sador tossed her head again and Buffy quickly mounted her steed. It felt so familiar up here that for a moment she forgot her promise to actually return her horse to Sador's former master. She noticed that Éothain was watching her every move and quickly came about and rode forward. "Let's go."

The ride around Edoras wasn't nearly as long as it could have been. It took more than two hours before they finally reached the distant fields, settled in a valley, a gentle cup between two towering peaks to the south. They were at least a hard day's ride from Helm's Deep, but the spot was still one of pristine beauty. And, as they drew closer, she saw a large marble platform had been raised, as well as what looked like an open gazebo. Beautiful pillars carved with horse heads adorned the base of the open gazebo, and there were wide arches that circled behind it. It was a beautiful stand. "Not bad," she commented, realizing that Éothain had been gazing at her since they'd paused and all he saw was the fact her jaw had dropped. "I'm impressed."

"Your blessing means much to me," Éothain said quietly.

"You've got it," Buffy said, steadying Sador as she drew level with the stand and dismounted. Walking through it was somewhat of a dream. Gazing out to see Edoras in the distance, she saw elegantly carved benches extending half as far as she could see. It was be the perfect setting for a wedding, she decided. At least they had the place decided. "I only wish King Éomer were here to see this."

"And where is your betrothed?" Éothain asked, frowning. "I was under the impression that he would have returned two days prior."

"He got held up," Buffy said, and quickly lifted a hand to stifle her laughter. The King was still working on a network system of connecting the larger cities through Rohan, she thought. Since he had announced their engagement the previous autumn, he had been gone for so long that she hadn't seen him more than three days since. "Well, I'd say you earned your keep for this," she said, ducking under an archway as she returned to Sador. The horse seemed calm as her rider quickly got onto her back before turning back to Edoras. "It's beautiful."

"There are still more additions that have been planned," Éothain said, looking rather pleased with this high praise, "yet all will be as you have asked it. King Éomer did ask me to make one small modification. However, it will not curtail the design that you have chosen."

"You're not going to tell me what it is, either, are you?" she asked suspiciously. When she received stony silence from his entire entourage, she shook her head and sighed. "Oh, I hope you know I hate surprises."

"This is not a surprise, Buffy," Éothain replied. "This would be a tradition in Rohan and one that you are quite unfamiliar with. However, all will be set as you have asked. I was planning on tents in that area there," he said, making a wide gesture with his arm. "If you insist, we will complete a solid structure. There is a quarry that would be sufficient, but perhaps a reception could be held at the Golden Hall in Meduseld."

"Considering the invitation list goes to the entire country, I'm not sure tens of thousands could fit _in _the Golden Hall," Buffy laughed, imagining how crammed they would all be. "I don't care if you build a roof, as long as there are tables and stuff. But I will leave that in your entirely capable hands."

"Word has also been sent to Gondor at the request of the King," Éothain reminded her. "Lady Éowyn of Ithilien has already returned word that she will be present the first week of May to complete preparations for the ceremony."

"Fabulous," Buffy said, smiling. "I can't wait to see her again, and my future brother, too."

Éothain decided for once to ignore her sentimental use of sarcasm and continued on. "There are likely many others who would wish to attend this ceremony," he said in a low voice, drawing his horse nearest hers. "You have made many friends in this land, more of higher stature than the Rohirrim."

"So you're telling me there's a chance the whole _world _will show up on my wedding day?" she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged, borrowing one of her well-used maneuvers. "There is always a distinct possibility."

She threw him the longest look before pushing Sador ahead of the group. He couldn't resist a deep smile of satisfaction at tousling her normally concrete persona. It was almost as fun as going into battle with her.

x-x-x

"It seems as though your appetite has returned."

Buffy glanced up at Éomer, who sat across the table from her and set down her fork, chewing slowly. It tasted like sawdust, whatever that tasted like, and it left a bitter, woody taste in her mouth. "Oh, yeah," she choked, reaching for her water glass, "it's the same as the last time they tried to poison me."

"Sampling a range of cuisine was not an attempt to kill you," Éomer said, eyeing her with sympathy as she downed her water. "I cannot imagine what was in that dish that would make you so ill."

"It didn't bother you," Buffy snapped back, grimacing as she placed her hand over her stomach, which was beginning to reel again. "Less than two weeks from our wedding day and the stupid caterers…" She was unable to finish her insult as another stabbing pain shook her small body. "Damn it."

"Easy," Éomer said, quickly rushing to her side. She attempted to swat him away, but swayed and fell into his arms.

"You must love this," she moaned. "Seeing me weak must make you feel…"

"Please do not strain yourself," he said firmly, pushing her into a sitting position. "I will find you suitable provisions. I will not let you suffer this ailment."

"Oh, my knight," she groaned as he knelt beside her. "It makes me feel so much better that you're watching out for me."

"I swore that I would never leave you," he said, reaching over and stroking her face, which was unusually flushed, her eyes bright. "I never intend to."

She managed a small smile then before her body trembled again. "Guess I got lucky."

His face bore another smile as he rose again and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I will ask the others to assist you to your quarters. You may find more comfort in resting."

"I've rested for the last two weeks," she whined as she steadied herself again. Éomer made his way to the other end of the table before collecting his water glass and returning to her side, pushing the glass into her hand. "Besides, people are going to start coming and I need to be there—"

"My Lord."

"Like now," she said, allowing her head to rest against his arm as Éomer turned to acknowledge the young man standing in the doorway.

"What news have you?" Éomer asked, lifting his arm to support his beloved. He felt her push off of his arm to her original position, but he knew that she would weaken from the food poisoning quickly enough.

"Lady Éowyn arrives," the man replied. Both Éomer and Buffy glanced at him curiously. "Her caravan approaches Meduseld as we speak."

They glanced at one another as the man walked out. "I will see to her," Éomer said at last.

"Don't be stupid," she said, getting to her feet and glaring at the water glass still in her hand. Turning, she managed to drink it down before slamming the goblet onto the table still laden with four fantastic dishes. "I want to see her, too."

He said nothing but steered her towards the steps, into the grand entrance hall and out the main doors. Even as his hands held her, she pulled from his grasp, swaying dangerously. Just as they descended the steps a long line of wagons suddenly stopped and the figure on an ivory horse came to a rest, reaching up to remove her periwinkle cloak. She was radiant as she dismounted, quickly extending her hand to her brother. "Éomer," she said joyfully and a moment later they embraced, brother and sister united again after more than two years of silence. "Buffy… you do not look well."

"The wedding caterers tried to kill me," she said humorlessly, allowing herself to be hugged tightly by the taller woman while giving her an awkward pat on the back. "Otherwise, I'm great."

"I do have something for you to see, but for your eyes only," she said, grasping Buffy's hands. Turning her sharp eyes to her brother, she told him politely to go assist the others. "Faramir comes in the rear, as does the party of Ithilien."

"You mean that you're not here representing Gondor?" Buffy asked, slightly surprised.

Éowyn shook her head as she pushed a blanket aside, reaching into the back of the wagon. "Certainly not, Buffy! They will arrive ere the week ends, but I had a task to attend to, and at last I have completed it." Ducking out of the wagon, she handed Buffy a long, flat basket. "This is a gift for you from Ithilien."

"I wasn't expecting a wedding present," Buffy said, grimacing again as her stomach gave an almighty lurch.

"This was not intended as such," Éowyn said, watching as Buffy placed her hand on the wagon in the attempt to steady herself. "You really do not look well."

"I'm fine," Buffy said, in a voice far sharper than she had intended. "What's in the box?"

"This was one of the gowns that you favored in Gondor," Éowyn said slowly, removing the top of the basket and setting it down so that Buffy could see inside. "I had this created for you."

Buffy was speechless, too moved to speak as she bent down, examining the contents slowly. "This is incredible," she said in a breathless voice. "But how did you know?"

"Gandalf told me a great many things before he took his leave from Ithilien," Éowyn replied, straightening and replacing the top on the basket. "You are not to tell my brother, either. This will remain in secret until your nuptials." She paused for a moment. "There are other items as well that Gandalf wished for you to have and things that he wishes for you to do, but in good time will you receive these. I do wish for you to rest, you appear ever sick."

"You should listen to her," a masculine voice spoke up as Faramir appeared at Éowyn's shoulder, eyeing Buffy in concern. "You certainly do not appear well."

"It's called food poisoning," Buffy snapped. "I'll be fine." He was the _third _person to question her health in five minutes, for crying out loud! Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Hadn't she proved that she could fight half-dead? This was a meager case of poisoning, hardly bereft of such attention!

"You have handled too much yourself," Éowyn persisted. "I will take over the planning for the ceremony and bid you to rest. I would rather not have Éomer order you to bed."

Buffy let out a low growl of protest as they both took one of her arms and began to march her backwards towards the stairs. "What… what do you think you're doing?" she cried out, attempting to push herself backwards. All she did was kick up a vast wave of dust that settled over them, throwing her small, recently battered body into a coughing fit.

"You are getting married in a short period of time," Faramir said, frowning as Éomer returned, looking concerned as they both released Buffy. "It would do us all a great favor if you were to not perish before that celebration."

"I'm not dying, you idiot," Buffy replied as Éomer appeared over her shoulder and gently took her arm. She shook it off and pointed a bony finger at Faramir. "I've been planning this thing since October when I got back!" Turning on Éowyn, she glared at the Lady of Ithilien. "This is all _your_ fault."

Éowyn gave her a patient smile as she spun the lady around so Buffy could grab at a support before she collapsed face-first into the dust. "Do not assign blame where it is due. We will see to the caterers and make them pay thrice-fold for causing you ill."

"That makes me feel so much better," Buffy muttered under her breath. "Just because you two show up doesn't mean you two get to take over my show! You're not my parents."

"We know this," Éowyn said in a comforting voice. "I will see to you later. But for now," she added, gesturing to the wagons and horses now stopping before Meduseld, "we have much to attend to."

Buffy could only sigh angrily as Éomer steered her back into the Golden Hall. She left him at the entrance and made her way into her bedroom, closing the door irritably behind her. She heard the dull echo on the other end and grasped her stomach, blinking. Perhaps it would be best to let others tend to this ridiculous wedding. She had always envisioned something small, like eloping with her closest family and friends around her. Knowing that she was going to get married in front of an entire country was just too much pressure for her weakened body to handle. The fact that the entire world could show up just forced her body to sigh.

She quickly changed into her sleeping attire and slipped in between her warm sheets. Someone had placed a bedpan beneath the covers so that it was warm and relaxing as she bent her head to her pillow, exhaling deeply. Before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.

She was awakened some time later by Éowyn's voice telling someone outside of the room to remain there. Blinking, she first realized it was dark and then she realized that Éowyn had someone at her side. "What?" she muttered stupidly as Éowyn came forward, a large bag in her hand.

"I will ask you to remain there," Éowyn told her companion as she came forward and quickly lit a fire. Buffy pushed herself into a seated position, only to realize that the person in the room with them was none other than Elena.

"Hey, you," Buffy said as Elena ran happily into her arms. Buffy held onto her for a moment before Elena jumped onto the bed beside Buffy and sat on her knees, waiting for Éowyn, who was taking a long time to unpack her bag. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Many hours," Elena replied for Éowyn, who was still searching for something. "King Éomer was so worried; he insisted he come, but Éowyn wouldn't let him."

"There is a reason that I would not," Éowyn said, finally stepping into the small pool of light flickering from the fireplace. "I have things to discuss with your adopted Mother, Elena."

"Can I stay here?" the little girl asked in a small voice. Éowyn nodded and Elena, looking more relaxed, tucked herself into Buffy's side as Éowyn began to place one item after another on the bed beside them before pulling a chair from the corner to their position.

"Every woman in this land requires a dowry ere she is married," Éowyn explained as Buffy leaned over and lifted a small object, shaking it slightly. With a slight smirk, Éowyn removed it and set it aside. "As you have no living family in this land and as I have taken what I needed for a dowry of my own house, Faramir has offered those belonging with his own house for yours." She bent down and selected a small box and opened it, removing a beautiful silver chain. "This came from the house of Dol Amroth, Faramir's mother's house. This is of great value to Gondor and it was his honor to have me bestow it to you. Faramir wishes that you wear it on the day of your wedding."

"I will," Buffy said, taking the chain and holding it. The necklace itself was a choker, several strands of silver drawn to a single stone. "Thank you."

"I am not the one you should be thanking," Éowyn reminded her. "The rest of these items belonged to Faramir's house. There was one item here that belonged with his brother."

"Boromir?" Buffy asked quietly. She had only heard the name a few times since she'd arrived in this land, but deduced enough that he had once been part of the Fellowship of the Ring.

"There were few items in his possession as his cares lied beyond material things," Éowyn replied solemnly as she took the box Buffy had been shaking earlier and handed it to her. Buffy opened the rectangular box and found an ornate, bejeweled dagger within. "The last of the items which I will give to you are from my house." She lifted the last box and set two items into Buffy's palm. "These were the rings my mother and father wore ere their passing. It was my mother's wish that they would be used for her own children again when they celebrated the same love my parents once shared. As you and Éomer share this love and prepare to share your life, I find it only fair that you inherit these rings."

Buffy lifted one with her fingers and studied it closely. There was an engraving on the inside. "This doesn't say anything about binding a bunch of nations together for the purpose of evil, does it?"

Éowyn gave her a long look, which Buffy returned. Éowyn knew better than to assume that the younger woman was taking this lightly but in her own ironic way Buffy was grateful to the point of being touched. "No," she said, leaning over and taking Buffy's hand. "It does not." There was a brief pause in which Buffy returned the items to the box and Éowyn collected them, placing them back into the bag. "Come, Elena… your Mother needs rest."

"Get well soon," Elena said in a small voice, quickly getting off of the bed and squeezing Buffy quickly. Éowyn remained by the door until Elena had joined her, and then both were gone.

As they left, Buffy sank against her pillows, deep in thought. She couldn't help but feel she was the luckiest woman in the world, about to be married to a man that three years ago she considered a sexist moron. She was inheriting the best sister, who was both thoughtful and wise. She was also gaining something more, something beyond rings and knives and trinkets. She was gaining a country and that responsibility alone was enough to prove that she needed to stop acting juvenile and rest. She was going to need her strength if she was going to spend the rest of her life not only guarding Rohan, but leading it as well.

x-x-x

Over the next few days, Buffy had gained her strength back. Éowyn and Faramir were doing what they could, but could never get very far. It seemed as though everyone second-guessed their decision, wanting everything to be as Buffy wanted it and not trusting two outside rulers to help. They eventually gave up this system and returned control over the planning and execution back to Buffy, who gladly took control of her own ceremony.

But the one thing that she did allow them to do was select a menu for the celebration. They were only too happy to comply, considering they were unwilling to have Buffy become ill again. This way, Éowyn could make due on her threat to torture the caterers who had nearly killed their future Queen less than a month before her ceremony. When they awakened one beautiful morning to find their stores emptied and their best papers littering the bottom floor of the stables, they soon realized their error. After apologizing profusely to Lady Éowyn, she dutifully returned their stores, but told them to begin their papers from scratch considering they had nearly killed their future Queen. It was this perhaps more than anything that prompted them into action. Éowyn asked Faramir to supervise them and though he gnashed his teeth and grunted about this being servant's work, he took the reins. He knew how important this day was to his bride because Buffy was someone very important to her. Éowyn had told him everything that she knew about the small blonde woman and Faramir was almost desperate to know more. He couldn't wait for a war so that he could fight at her side – she seemed like someone every King should have with them, even if she wore the opposite crown.

Éomer too remained in Edoras, adding his input when needed and standing by Buffy's decisions whenever they were questioned. He followed Buffy tirelessly, watching as she argued with everyone from those trimming the grasses to his Marshals, put to a secret task by himself and yet left to their own devices. It was when he saw her attempting to strangle his Third Marshal with his own flagpole did he decide to intervene, pulling the temperamental blonde away from the Marshal, who was cursing under his breath and massaging his bruised throat. This wasn't the only incident, either. When the tents for the outlanders were pitched, Buffy had a great deal of fun allowing the new foals to pass through and massacre them because she thought that the white was too drab and they were far too small for her guests. Rolling his eyes, Éomer realized he had to succumb to her. Though they still saw very differently when it came to seeing eye-to-eye, he was still enamored with her. He wouldn't have asked her to be his bride if he wasn't. The fact she had finally agreed to marry him was proof enough that she was willing to accept responsibility as his wife and, hopefully, his Queen.

By the time the week had passed word had come that others were arriving for the ceremony. Before the day was through, an Elvish horn rang clearly through the valley as a group from Rivendell arrived. Buffy was quite pleased to see both Elladan and Elrohir amongst them, along with their grandfather, the Lord Celeborn. Buffy was the first to greet them, as her rapport with the Elves was still strong. Éomer and Éowyn stood together as the Elves stopped to greet her before being allowed into Meduseld. The day after they had arrived, another Elvish delegation from the Woodland Realm came under the watchful eyes of its Prince, Legolas Greenleaf. He appeared quite calm and pensive as he greeted her, two close friends enjoying the company of the other. Éomer glared clearly at the two, remembering their close friendship and feeling as though he wanted to ground the Prince's head into a tree. Seeing them together, laughing over her food sickness as he explained his latest trip to Ithilien as being dunked into the river by several irate Dwarves was just… He knew he shouldn't be envious. After all, she had agreed to marry him and with that brought a code of how she should behave. He had Éowyn intervene and watched as his sister pityingly shook her head at him, explaining that ties with the Elves were a good thing. As Éomer had no standing relations with them, his wife had better. Apparently, they did. He watched them, grounding his teeth as Éowyn laughed beside him. This behavior of hers would truly drive him to madness ere it kept up.

The day following that, a large group of Dwarves came with Gimli, son of Glóin as well as Glóin himself. With only a few precious days until the celebration, all efforts were underway to entertain the guests, which became the responsibility of the Marshals, who grudgingly took the task as set to them by their King. Buffy was close with these men, he had told them. He didn't want his future bride to be spending time with her closest allies when she had something as large as this to plan.

But the greatest surprise came the day before the celebration. Buffy had been greeting the larger delegation from Helm's Deep when another horn sounded in the valley. Thousands of people had been passing through Edoras on their way into the valley, erecting tents and temporary villages as the city could not support such a large shift in population so quickly. Buffy turned from Erkenbrand to see a few banners displaying the symbol from Gondor swaying in the air, a white tree with seven stars. The horns blew again and Buffy felt a bright smile on her face. King Elessar was amongst those who rode. He was surrounded by his closest guard, which appeared to be more than two hundred soldiers, friends and advisors. At his side rode his wife, the Queen Evenstar, her face concealed by her cloak, the deepest shade of turquoise and plum. As she dismounted from her steed, Buffy could see that her stomach was well-rounded, speaking plainly that she would soon give birth. Touched that the King and Queen of Gondor would take it upon themselves to attend her wedding, Buffy quickly rushed to greet them.

In all, more than a thousand people had arrived during a four-day time period representing the three main races in this world. Éomer was highly relieved that Aragorn had come considering that he had no outstanding relations with either the Dwarves or the Elves. His bride would handle those relations, as she appeared to be doing as they had entered the realm, while Éomer tended to those from Gondor. A few hours later, Prince Imrahil, too, arrived with only about fifty guards, but nevertheless was eager to attend this celebration.

Buffy grew steadily quieter that evening even in the face of the larger estate dinner. As all of the leaders gathered under the stars and were served the finest of Rohirric cuisine, Buffy found herself missing the presence of her former mentor. As they sat to eat, there was the sound of another horn in the distance. Buffy glanced at Éomer questioningly over the flickering candlelight. Surely everyone they had ever met was gathered at this table.

But it did not appear so as two guards arrived and announced that Master Samwise and at least a dozen Hobbits had arrived.

"I'd forgotten about them," Buffy gasped, nearly dropping her goblet in horror.

"You must relax," Éomer said, his breath warm on her cold neck. "You have been under a great strain as it is. This was not your fault but a mere oversight."

"I could think of a few ways to relax," she reminded him snidely. She was pleased to see him choke out a small cough, straighten up, clear his throat and then return to his plate. "Will you escort Master Samwise in?"

The guard nodded and he and his counterpart left. Returning her attention to her filled pasta, she continued to eat in silence until three Hobbits were drawn into the light. They glanced at the four tables set in a square-like pattern. There were large vats of flames dancing both inside the square and at the corners, with candles alighting each table with a pure, golden glow. Buffy was surprised to see not only Sam, who seemed to have grown slimmer in his time in the Shire, but also Merry and Pippin, two Hobbits who were very close to her heart. She was now most disappointed she had forgotten to invite them!

"Welcome to our table, Master Hobbits," King Éomer said, gesturing that they take seats at their own table, which was empty save him and Buffy. "You are most welcome to this feast."

The three exchanged a quick look before ambling to the table. The two guards stepped in to assist seating the three newest guests before departing into the darkness. By now, large moths were dancing around the flames, creating flickering shadows that cast darkness upon each of their faces.

"We thank you for your invitation," Samwise said loyally as he eyed his two friends. "We only wish we could have arrived sooner."

"We came as soon as we were able," Pippin replied as he glanced eagerly at his pasta plate.

Buffy slowly set down her fork, turning to Éomer. "Did you invite them?" she asked quietly.

He turned to her, smiling slightly. She felt a flutter of something in her stomach as she turned to her left to regard the three Halflings. "It's our pleasure," she replied with a broad smile. "It's really good to see you again."

"In all honesty," Merry said with a slight frown, "we thought we would be here a bit sooner than this."

Buffy sat up straighter, suddenly feeling cold. "Sorry about the wait."

Éomer leaned over and took her hand. "We are quite delighted that you have come to join us in this celebration," he said in his deep voice.

"I only wish that Frodo could have come for this," Samwise said in a gloomy voice. "He would have been much cheered at a celebration like this ere he left this world."

Buffy was not only chilled, but she felt as though a dead weight had settled in her stomach. Setting aside her fork, she attempted to smile at the Hobbit. "I really wish they all could have been here," she agreed. "I miss them too."

Samwise gave her an encouraging smile which she returned. Turning back to her plate, she attempted to finish her meal, but felt as though she didn't need to.

"Now," Éowyn said, suddenly standing up. "We must prepare for the morning. Buffy, come with me." She waited until Buffy rose. Suddenly there were women who appeared from every angle, including Samwise's wife Rosie who came and stood beside Buffy, the top of her head barely reaching the bottom of Buffy's shoulder. "We will lie in state, ere the bell tolls." Turning, she took Buffy's arm and led her away from the group into the darkness. After she had been led away, Éomer was allowed to return to Meduseld. On horseback at full canter, it took two hours to return.

He was quite tired and fell directly asleep upon his return, but not before noticing that his large chambers would soon be expanded to include one more. He smiled at the thought of this being the last night to have this room to himself. The smile grew at the thought of sharing this room with the woman he loved, forever.

x-x-x

Morning came all too soon for many. Éowyn was amongst those that were rushing about, setting affairs in order before Buffy could awaken. When she finally was awoken, she was jostled by Arwen. Looking quite disheveled, Buffy accepted the tea and crackers Arwen handed to her, but soon sensed that the Elvish queen was in no hurry to leave her tent. Sitting up against her pillows with her food and drink, she glanced at Arwen, who looked as stunning as usual. "Something on your mind?" she asked, nibbling the corner of a cracker.

"Aragorn will not be permitted to see you ere the ceremony," Arwen replied, slipping her hand into her cloak and withdrawing a small box. Buffy felt her curiosity grow as Arwen opened the box and handed it to the Slayer. "This is amongst our gifts to you, but as you were explaining your traditions after my own nuptials I only felt it wise to give this."

"I already have something old and something new," Buffy said, glancing into the box. Her eyebrows suddenly lifted as she pulled out the object. "And now I have something borrowed." It was a sapling, barely more than a twig, resembling something close to the White Tree of Gondor. "It's… a tree?"

"Elessar found this behind the stones where the new tree was discovered," Arwen informed her. "This tree is blessed by the Eldar and should grow strong as long as your kin follow after you have departed." She paused. "I have given my passage to the Ringbearer, but my father wished for me to say to you that you are free to pass into the West. You have not diminished that gift by refuting the first offer. Should the toils of humanity bear grievous, the passage West will remain."

"Thank you," Buffy said, setting the tree back inside the box for safekeeping. "As for the voyage, well… I'm not planning on bailing… ever, if I can help it." She paused, too. "I think you made the same decision I did, to stand beside Aragorn for better or for worse."

"I have," Arwen agreed.

"Then you know that I will die as one of them," Buffy replied, gesturing to the people of Rohan as they began to gather outdoors, "as you will die as the one who loved him."

The two women exchanged a comfortable smile before Arwen stood, patting Buffy's arm. "They will soon come to tend to you."

"I'm looking forward to it," Buffy said, watching as Arwen left. She barely had time to finish her tea and the rest of her crackers when the tent flap opened and three women appeared. Buffy found herself being dragged from one tent to the next. After bathing, she was sent into a second vat of scented oils. At last, she was seen outdoors and she saw, with a shuddering gasp, the swelling population gathered at the rostrum awaiting the royal arrival. She could already see Arwen and her brothers moving easily through the vast crowds. Swallowing her nerves, she ducked inside the tent. Hearing a sound behind her, she jumped, but quickly smiled in relief as Éowyn appeared, the basket in her hands.

"Come with me," she said gently. Pulling Buffy into a corner, she helped the younger woman into her gown. It was a deep shade of green, much like the special armor she knew Éomer would wear on this day. It had the floor-length sleeves along with a train that extended back a few feet behind her upon the ground. Best of all, though, was the cut across the shoulders and the slight dip of material to her chest, creating a V-like neckline. It was a stunning dress and with the choker of Finduilas, Faramir's mother, she felt as though her ensemble was complete. Her darkening, honey-colored hair was next, but soon was tame and bound at her neck with a large clip in the shape of a butterfly. There was no need to ask where that had come from, since the Elves favored these creatures amongst others. Her suspicions were confirmed when Éowyn told her that Elladan had bestowed this clip to her, with the only regrets of its blue tint.

Now, standing in regalia before Éowyn, the older woman struggled to hold in her tears. "What?" Buffy asked, shifting uncomfortably in her material.

"Today you look like a Queen," Éowyn replied, lifting a hand to hide her trembling lips. "And today is the day that you will become one."

Buffy knew Éowyn was thinking about Buffy's resistance for years about choosing this duty. But she was pleased this woman had finally followed her heart and later today would be sisters.

Buffy struggled to hold her own smile as she glanced down at herself. "I guess I look good, huh?"

Éowyn nodded and turned away before she lost total control. "I will return when they are ready for you," she said as she left the tent.

Buffy nodded and circled the small table, her shoes crunching over the level grass that had been added to the bottom of her tent. In the distance, she could hear many voices and the sound of both laughter and cheering. It sounded as though the ceremony would begin at any moment.

It was during this moment that Buffy longed to have her mother there beside her. Or, at the very least, she wished that her sister and her friends could be there. She was happy to know that her sister and friends were being looked after. Galadriel had given her that much. Leaning over, she saw the single unlit candle on the table and glanced at the two vats of dancing flames. Taking one of the incense sticks, she turned to light the candle. Somehow, after all that she had lost, this seemed like the right thing to do.

She had lost so many in her life: her mother, her father, her friends… Gandalf, Galadriel and Elrond, three people who had made her life mean something in this world. There were also Legolas and Gimli who, despite their cultural differences remained close friends to the end. There were the Hobbits, dear creatures to her heart. There was Aragorn, so much like her in so many ways, married to a woman who was as close to looking into a mirror as she could get. And Éowyn, her dearest friend in this realm that had stood by her on so many occasions along with her husband Faramir, had given her so much of themselves that she felt lucky to know them at all. In a way, she had found her own group of friends. She wasn't alone. And that, she thought with deep satisfaction, is what made this life worth living.

Lastly, there was Éomer. She recalled when she first met him with a slight smile. He had irritated her beyond any end, and his piggish ways had certainly turned her off to him. And yet, little by little, he had won her over with his compassion, his strength and his inner fire. What had allowed her to fall in love with him though, she thought, was his heart. He had the biggest heart and through that strength, she thought, the man could move mountains. It was her greatest gift and triumph that she had won over his love. Now they would be bound together for life until death and even then, she knew, there would be something written in some destiny about their souls finding one another again. She could feel it. Even when they died, they wouldn't be parted so easily. After all, it had taken them three years to reach this point and through many trials, struggles and sacrifices, they had finally gotten here. They were finally at the end, and Buffy had found the light at the end of her tunnel. It was her own light and it gave her such radiance she felt as though she could do anything. She was not only ready to marry this man, but she was also ready to defend this country and die for Rohan.

When she first heard the voice she thought that she was dreaming. She heard her name spoken in the wind and turned to where the candlelight was now flickering. Glancing up, she saw a figure standing there, bathed in radiant light.

"Mom?" she asked softly, in disbelief. For a moment, she couldn't believe her eyes. And then the woman spoke.

"It's really you."

"Mom? Is this real?" Buffy said again, unable to really see.

"I'm right here, sweetie."

Buffy felt her chest constrict before a pained smile lit her face. "It's really you? You're really there…"

"I'm here, Buffy. I'm really here."

"But… how…"

"You should have listened to him, sweetie. He told you what you needed to know. I can't stay long. We both have places to be. And I don't think any Mother could ever be prouder than I am of you at this very moment. My little girl… my little Slayer is going to get married."

Buffy nodded her head, her smile broadening. "I am, Mom."

"I never would have seen this coming even if it hit me between the eyes," the ghostly figure said, smiling sadly. "Not only are you getting married, but you're going to be a Queen."

"I wish I could say I wasn't scared, but I guess I am," Buffy admitted, knowing how precious their time together was. She could tell that her own time was running out; she heard the sounds of harps in the background. From behind her, Éowyn appeared. She frowned as she saw the pearly figure standing across from the beautiful young woman, but didn't speak. She merely observed.

"It is okay to be afraid of what you don't know," the ghostly figure advised. "I have seen enough to understand that you love them about half as much as they love you. But don't be afraid to face what is to come. Don't be afraid to lead them. You are exactly what they need." Then, noticing a movement on the edge of the tent, she stepped back.

"Mom?" Buffy asked, blinking. She felt as though she had been taken in by some spell or enchantment. She turned as Éowyn came forward.

"What is this?" she asked in a low voice.

"This is my mother," Buffy admitted, gesturing to the pearly figure, who regarded Éowyn for a moment before speaking.

"I have seen your path," she said, tilting her head as she regarded the young woman standing before her. "There are a great many things in your future and all of them will bring you great blessings. This was your wisest choice, daughter of Rohan."

"How does she know me?" Éowyn asked uncertainly.

"I know from those who speak of you," Joyce said, smiling. She radiance seemed to dim as she turned away. "The others call for me now… I must return with them. The time has come for me to say goodbye, but I just wanted to see my daughter before…" Her voice ended as she lifted a hand to brush away tears, as bright as diamonds, from her shaded cheeks. "She's all grown up now."

"Mom, I—" Buffy started, but she couldn't think of what she wanted to say. How could she saw something, anything after all this time? She lost her mother more than five years ago. And yet somehow it seemed like decades.

"I know," Joyce said suddenly. "You have my blessings, as do you have the blessings of their house." She turned to look pointedly at Éowyn. "Your Mother wishes you well, Éowyn. She is glad that you have given her rings for their wedding today." Her radiance seemed to fade as she looked down. "My time has come," she added, glancing from one to the other. "I am so happy for you both. And I'm so very, very glad that I got to say goodbye this time. I love you, Buffy. I will always love you." And after her last words were spoken, she seemed to fade away.

Buffy and Éowyn turned to look at one another. "I was sent to collect you," Éowyn said, clearing her throat promptly.

"Of course," Buffy said, turning back to the table and blowing the candle out. Taking a deep, nervous breath, she smoothed her gown and glanced down at herself one last time. "Ready?"

Éowyn nodded and gestured forward as Buffy moved out of the tent, which had been set up down the hill from where the stage had been set. As Buffy was brought to the back, hidden from view, a great host of trumpets sounded. Glancing up, she saw that the royal guard, all in the same rich, green leather, were all holding their swords over their heads as a symbol of something-or-other, she knew. Éowyn quietly slipped away to join Faramir, who took her hand and smiled at her. His smile quickly faded when he saw the look on her face. "What is it?" he asked her quietly.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head.

It was the First Marshal's job to escort her to where Éomer was standing, and he was quick to do so. As soon as she joined Éomer, the host of trumpets fell silent as King Elessar stepped forward. Buffy felt her smile widen. This was yet another surprise, one of many, she decided. As they faced the people, she saw many faces that she knew. Elena stood near the stage in a dress the color of a corn husk, looking absolutely beautiful for a girl of eight. Elena smiled at her as their eyes met.

King Elessar spoke the words in both the tongue of the West and in Elvish as another older priest stood behind him, reciting the words in the tongue of Rohan as Éomer and Buffy exchanged the rings that had once belonged to Éomer's mother and father. He seemed genuinely surprised when he saw the jewelry, yet recited the well-known words and soon their hands remained joined, their vows made and their promises to love and honor forever created. Aragorn then stepped forward and asked that they face one another as he lifted a small golden goblet and held it to the light. The sunlight reflected from its smooth surface as he turned and handed it to Buffy. She took it and sipped from the full cup, her eyes watering as the bitter wine slid down her throat. She managed to hold the cup to Éomer, tears smarting in her eyes. She saw his compassionate smile and tried to warn him with her eyes that the wine was a bit more potent than usual. The moment he took a sip, she saw that he attempted not to choke as he handed the goblet back to Aragorn. She, too, saw that his eyes were watering as their hands joined once again.

"Bound are you in love, honor and loyalty till the ends of your lives," Aragorn announced to the crowd at large. A single trumpet horn rang out as two large brass-colored bowls on either side of the stage were opened and hundreds of live doves were released into the wild. As they took flight, a brisk wind suddenly filled the valley and pushed her hair from her face. At once, she smiled at the symbolism of the wind as the birds disappeared from sight.

At last, she thought, gazing at Éomer, who only had eyes for her. His look was of a man deeply taken by the one whom he loved. But this ceremony had come to an end and all of her aspirations had been met, save one. Drawing her arms around his neck, she brought his face to hers and kissed him with all of her ardor and more, her fingers careful not to knock the gleaming crown from his head. The cheer seemed to grow louder as they broke apart. He looked stunned, but she wore a knowing smirk as they separated.

Yet no one seemed in their right mind to leave. They were waiting for something else. Leaning over, Éomer took her hand and led her to another platform, raised slightly above the stage. All of the Marshals gathered onto the stage, getting down to one knee, the seven scepters clasped to their breasts. He directed her to the center before bringing her hand to his lips and pecking it. Releasing her, he stepped back as King Elessar stepped forward. He held another box in his hand, which Elena, beaming with pride, came frontward to hold. Two Captains came forward and unfurled the banner of Rohan, a large white horse on green, which rippled in the breeze.

Opening the box, Aragorn removed a crown, which glistened under the cool sunlight. Éomer instinctively reached up to touch his own. Elena withdrew the box and set it aside as Aragorn held the crown up to the people, who watched his every move carefully. "Citizens of Rohan, brothers and sisters of my blood! Here stands Merilin, stranger to and defender of Rohan, of counsel to her King and a loyal servant to you all… In this age she brings hope and wisdom and forevermore shall she be named as bound to your King eternally. Shall she enter Edoras and be named Queen and defender of all which you stand?"

There was a very loud "Yeah!" at this beckoning. Then, turning to Buffy, he poised the crown before her and asked, "Merilin, here stands the people of Rohan who have asked you to guide and lead them forever shall your kin come after. Will you accept this crown as the willful judgment of those willing to serve you and guard them, guide them and lead them?"

"Yeah," she replied, trying in vain to hold a serious expression. She added a loud, hasty "Yes!" when she saw the looks on some of their faces. The Rohirrim were acting as though she were the crazed former-advisor of their King. Those who didn't know her crinkled their brows in confusion. Those who knew her all too well just glanced at one another with the patient understanding that she was clearly the outsider.

"Then so shall it be forever," he said, and set the crown upon her head. She felt as though a great surge of power had been passed from the people onto her. With this crown on her head, she was capable of a great many things. With this crown, she was united and bound with these people, everlastingly. As he stood back to announce her, "Your Queen, Merilin, awaits her return to the city," the others rose and began cheering and crying.

Éomer came forward to grasp her arm and joined her on the platform as the Marshals rose, lifting their scepters to the pair in honor of what they had all just witnessed. Not only had King Éomer married this woman, but she had also come forward and was accepted by the people to be not only the wife of their King, but a ruling Queen. Never in her dreams would she have expected to be so warmly accepted and yet Éomer was beaming at her, as though he had been expecting this all along.

In the distance, one of Gandalf's last fireworks exploded, sending hundreds of swirling sparkles in every color imaginable above their heads. Bending down to face his new wife, he found her gazing, spellbound, at the sky. His hand reached out to touch her face as he brought it to his own. After they had separated, the people began to disperse as the coronation ceremony had at last come to an end.

x-x-x

"_Let them a journey new begin, but I at last with weary feet will turn towards the lightened inn, my evening rest and sleep to meet…"_

Already the reception dinner was in full swing, as the dinner was served and eaten and those still standing were moving to the song and dance of Merry and Pippin, who had been given their own table to dance upon. Buffy couldn't believe her good fortune; she really had missed these two. She leaned against Éomer, near exhaustion but still radiant as she cheered the Hobbits on. She was far from the only one.

Dinner had been extravagant and for once agreed with her system. The company hadn't been half bad, either. She had been greeted by many and the table at the rear of the hall had been rapidly filling with parcels to be opened the following day. Faramir, surprisingly, had been the one to give the toast, standing up and commanding the automatic respect of those around him as Prince of Ithilien. His toast had been simple, a tribute to the journey that laid before them, wrought with danger, solidified by loyalty, three peoples bound together forever under the strength of their friendship. "To the journey," he had said, lifting his goblet.

"To the journey," the others replied, lifting their own glasses. It really had been a beautiful speech.

Since there was enough mulled mead and wine to supply a medium-sized army, those in attendance at the affair were quickly intoxicated. Their steps grew more and more erratic. She glanced to her right and saw Éowyn applauding while Faramir whispered something to her. On Éomer's left, Aragorn and Arwen were deep in conversation with another group of humans on the other side of them. Feeling quite relaxed and sleepy, she turned to meet Éomer's gaze. He held it for a long while before bending his head to touch hers. She gave him a tired smile before turning away to drain the last of her wine. The time had come for them to leave and they both knew it.

He rose first, taking her hand and assisting her over the bench, the perfect chivalrous gentleman. The music came to an end and the two Hobbits stopped dancing in mid-sentence, turning to the King and Queen of the land. All lifted their cups in farewell as they left the tent and headed into the cold night.

The first bit of nightly air sent a chill down Buffy's spine as she stepped outside. She was only alone for a minute before a cloak was set over her shoulders and wrapped around her form. A masculine arm wound its way around her shoulders and remained there, pulling her back into a warm body. She could feel her own respond to the touch, but knew that those inside could still see them from the gaps within the largest tent. "We should go," she said, gently detaching his arm.

"This day has been tiring," he agreed, coming to step beside her.

"It's nothing compared to what it's going to be like," she said with a teasing smile, glancing at him. His eyes widened slightly as the tent opened behind them.

"You seemed to slip away quite quickly," Éowyn said in a joking voice.

"We have a much better place to be," Buffy said apologetically as Éomer took her arm from behind.

"But your guests—" Éowyn protested.

"They'll be there in the morning, too," Buffy replied slyly. "Besides, tonight is for us."

Éowyn attempted to hold her laughter at the look on Éomer's face. The poor man wasn't going to know what hit him. "Enjoy your evening," she managed to gasp out.

"Don't worry, you can count on it," Buffy said with a bright smile as she took Éomer's arm and pulled him away.

Éowyn realized she was laughing so hard there was a tight stitch in her side. She was joined a moment later by her own husband, who appeared at her shoulder, feigning concern. "It does not appear we will need to worry for their safety this eve," she choked, clutching her abdomen.

"I do not believe we will ever have to worry about their safety," Faramir replied fervently. "They appear to have enough power for an entire army."

Éowyn's laughter died out as she realized that her husband spoke the truth. "They will be a force to reckon with."

"If anyone dares to tread upon their land," Faramir agreed, his arms wrapping around Éowyn's slim waist. "Shall we return?"

She tilted her head, considering his offer. "I would prefer that we spend some time alone as well."

Faramir smiled as he bent his head to his wife's hair, inhaling the deep scent of lavender. "I have no objections with that," he replied.

Deep in the darkness, Buffy found her tent as Éomer finally caught up with her, panting. "The energy you must possess," he said breathlessly as he paused. "Surely you must grow tired."

"The way I look at it, the night's still young," she replied with that same silly smile. "Besides, you'll just have to spend the rest of your life figuring me out."

"That is one challenge I look forward to," he replied, a blazing look in his face.

"You're so going to lose," she smirked, disappearing between the tents. He stood behind, shaking his head, trying to figure out what he had gotten himself into. Had he really asked for this? At least, in Rohan, things would never be dull…

x-x-x-x

Next and last, a short epilogue.


	31. Epilogue

**Journey's End**

Pairings: There are _some _book pairings.

Events: This fiction is one that follows the path of Rohan through the end of the War of the Ring. Beyond the end of the story, there are chapters concerning the first few years of the Fourth Age, after the passing of the Ringbearers into the West.

Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns 'The Lord of the Rings' book series. Joss Whedon controls the world of Buffy. Peter Jackson and company own 'The Lord of the Rings' films. We only own a part of the plot.

Summary: Complete. Buffy is summoned to fulfill an oath before she can rest in peace.

In Gratitude: We really do appreciate our readers… thank you so much for your dedication, your kindness and everything else. It would be nice to try another unconventional pairing again, because there are many, may choices out there.

Chapter Summary: The beginning of a new era… and the end of a journey.

Chapter Warning: Unlike the past chapter, which was actually lengthy, this is really short. Hence, it's an epilogue.

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**Epilogue**

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"… so that's Faith. I think you'd agree that she was a little on the over-emotional side of things… but she was so scared about showing anything that she tried to hide it behind this wild child act. It really didn't fit her. She was a lot better than she thought she was…"

"I'm glad you told me about her," Elena said, glancing down at the figure crossing the bridge next to her. Her arms were held level as she stepped one foot in front of the other on the bridge's rail, her concentration on not falling into the wading pool below. Buffy walked slowly beside her, a basket held behind her as the woman bounced lightly on her feet. They were spending one of their days together at Isengard, or what remained of Saruman's fortress. The Ents had turned it into a large realm of gardens with Orthanc tower in the center. Buffy often took her leave to the far west and Isengard sort of reminded her of the sub-tropical California parks, only about thirty degrees cooler. She had never taken Elena with her before, though. She had chosen to this day because it had been awhile since she'd seen her adopted daughter.

Elena reached the end of the rail and Buffy leaned over, plucking the girl into her arms. As Elena was aging, though, she was already up to Buffy's shoulder. Despite the fact that they were from different blood, Elena did remarkably resemble her adopted mother. Once her feet were firmly on the ground again, she took Buffy's hand, dragging her down the steep incline towards the pool. After Buffy had spread out her blanket and set out their lunch before she continued her life story.

"So, tell me about the other Slayers? What were they like?"

After a refreshing lunch and watching Elena splash through the pool, Buffy felt contented and quite sleepy. Rolling onto her back, she watched as upside-down Elena continued to swim through the pool, her laughter ringing musically in Buffy's ears. After a moment though, Elena turned and splashed her. Sitting up as she was doused in icy water, she fixed Elena with a glare. The small girl froze, water dripping from the ends of her long, fair plait. "Oh," she said softly as Buffy slowly got to her feet, glancing down at her long tunic and trousers, sprinkled with tiny droplets.

"You are so gonna get it," Buffy growled playfully before leaping into the pool. Shrieking, Elena dove out of the way, but not fast enough. Buffy was always much, much faster than she tried to be. Then again, she was one of these Slayer things.

After playing in the water for awhile, the two women stole onto shore. Elena collapsed, panting. Buffy just sat down, wringing the water from her own hair, which had been pulled back in a long braid, too. Within minutes, Elena was asleep. Buffy took advantage of her daughter's drowsiness to check around their small area. She had visited the whole of Isengard, but had only run into a few Ents, who were the new guardians.

It was then she felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. Spinning around, she saw dust rising to the east. Lifting her hand, she spied two riders making their way rapidly towards Isengard. She quickly stole back across the bridge and down towards the pool where Elena was curled peacefully beneath Buffy's cloak. "Elena," she breathed, nudging the small girl. "Wake up… we've got company."

Elena stirred but did not awaken. As she now heard the sound of splashing water, she smoothed her still-dripping hair and glanced down at herself. Well, some Queen she turned out to be, she thought dryly. She looked like she had been splashing her way through all the pools. Taking a dignified breath, she saw her new horse and the small pony they had taken from Helm's Deep. They were too far away and the other horses were now within normal vision. She dashed up the rocks just as both riders crossed the bridge and slid from their horses, coming to stop directly in front of her.

"The beacons," one panted, holding out a hand to her, "the beacons have been lit."

Her body immediately tensed. She knew exactly what this meant; they had to respond to a potentially dangerous situation. "Where is he?" she asked, her mind switching directions automatically.

"He will meet you at Helm's Deep with the rest of our full force, my lady," the second replied. Buffy turned and fixed him with a stern look.

"You must forgive him," the first replied softly. "He is new and does not yet understand the way of things." As Buffy turned to regard a stirring Elena below, the first guard elbowed the second guard roughly in the ribs, all the while hissing "You _fool_ – if you wish to remain at your post, you must treat her as you would treat your sister!"

Buffy grinned at these words as she hopped out of sight. The second guard gave an alarmed cry; the first merely restrained from rolling his eyes.

Elena was pushing herself up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "What is it?"

"Time to go," Buffy replied, stuffing the basket and grabbing Elena's hand with significant force. "We've got company."

"What is it?" Elena repeated, looking concerned as Buffy dragged her up the rocks.

"I don't know," she replied as they reached the bridge. Both men looked appalled at the sight of the young girl standing next to their Queen, yet they both nodded. "She'll need to get back to Helm's Deep."

"The rest of the rearguard will ride from the north," the second guard replied, hoping to redeem himself. "I will take her."

Buffy turned and pinned him with her gaze again. "I don't know," she said slowly, realizing she could play with the smart little upstart for a bit. "She's almost eight… she might be too much for you to handle."

"Surely not!" the man gasped, watching as the little girl made faces at him from behind her mother's tunics. "I know that she is under your protective care."

"She's a bit much for a grown boy to handle," Buffy drawled, enjoying the red flush creeping up the man's neck. The first guard, one who rode with her often, just rolled his eyes and smirked. "And if she falls off her pony or gets lost, the King would get awfully cranky."

Elena stuck her fingers in her lips and pulled her mouth wide and slack, wagging her tongue at the poor second guard. He looked as though he were seconds away from collapse.

"My… my lady," he spluttered, ducking his head and backing hastily away, only to run into his horse. "I-I would never let s-such a thing happen to your ch-child…"

"Relax, private," Buffy said, giving him what she hoped was a welcoming smile. The poor man just let out a tiny peep and ducked behind his horse. "I was just giving you a hard time… you know, training you up. Just stick with the lieutenant here," she continued, gesturing to the first guard, "and you'll be a captain in no time."

"It is an honor to serve her majesty's guard," the second guard said quietly, creeping out from his hiding place.

"Yeah, yeah," the first guard said, waving him over, "let us stop with the praise. You volunteered to return Elena to Helm's Deep ere we meet with the rearguard. Take her now by the safest road and get her safely to Freya at Helm's Deep. She will care for her while we ride off to the aid of Gondor."

The second guard nodded, gave Buffy an apologetic smile, and beckoned the girl forward.

Buffy stopped Elena from moving and both men turned away to give their Queen and her daughter privacy.

"Mummy?" Elena asked in a horrified whisper. "The beacons are lit… will you ride to war?"

"I don't know what we'll find," Buffy said, pulling Elena into her arms. "I want you to be good for Freya now. And don't give Private Nutcase any grief now… whatever you do, stay with him. If something happens to him, just sit tight. We'll find you."

"Mummy, suddenly I am afraid," Elena whispered, clinging to her mother. "I fear I will never see you nor Father again."

"Don't be afraid," Buffy said with a vicious smile. "Nothing can stand between us and them. You know your father… he lives for this sort of thing. And so do I."

Elena then went willingly with the second guard. Buffy and the first guard watched as Elena's pony bobbed into the distance before they took their own horses and rode east. Then, the pair exchanged a quick look.

"So, what's the what?" she asked him finally.

"Little is known except the southern border has been attacked," the first guard replied solemnly. "I did not wish to worry you."

"Or Private Nutcase… where did you dig him up from?"

"You should see the numbers signing up to join the Queen's elite guard," the first lieutenant said proudly.

"Just swell," Buffy muttered as she reached her horse and quickly mounted her. The first guard watched her in awe, wondering how someone so small could move so quickly. "Well, let's get to it."

The two rode off across the plains until they came upon Erkenbrand's forces. The rearguard soon thundered their way into Helm's Deep. Once she arrived, she was told by the guard of the gate that her daughter had been removed from Helm's Deep and taken back to Edoras. She thanked him. He then gestured her into the Keep where Éomer was preparing. Taking a deep breath, she removed her riding cloak and walked into the room. He was standing just inside the door with his captains. As soon as he heard the door open, he turned to glance over at her. "You're late."

"So sorry," she breezily replied, draping her cloak across a bench and running a hand through windblown hair. "What's going on?"

"I will speak with her alone," Éomer announced to the room full of captains and Marshals. They quickly nodded, bowed their heads respectively and then cleared the room.

"What was that?" Buffy asked, alarmed.

"It is the return of a long-fought foe," Éomer replied gravely. "The Corsairs have returned to the south of Gondor. The beacons have been lit. Although I am certain that our full force is not needed…"

"It'd be best to show 'em what we got," Buffy grinned.

"Why must you always make light of such things?"

"It's what I do when we're always facing death and destruction," she retorted, folding her arms. "If I go into battle so serious, I'm liable to do something stupid unless I lighten things up."

"You do not need to ride," he said, concern etched on his face.

"Hey," Buffy replied softly, reaching up to touch his face with one chilled hand. "Don't give me this 'you stay behind because you're the lady' speech again. I can handle myself. For better or worse, remember? You go, I go? I'm not staying behind… not when the future of _our _world is at stake."

He gave a loud resigned sigh and dropped his head. "My apologies."

"Apologize later," she replied, forcing his chin up with a lift of her hand. "Go to battle now."

He nodded. "Of course."

"That's my King," she said in a mock, baby voice. He just rolled his eyes as she moved towards the doorway. "See you in the fields… one hour?"

"The men will be marshaled by then," Éomer agreed, watching as she swept regally out.

Once she retreated to her tiny room, she managed to get her armor on after changing out of her damp clothing and placing on the warmest clothing yet. Slipping on her boots, she straightened, pulling down the thick red armor she wore. It was probably Éomer's or Theodred's when they were children, she realized ruefully. She couldn't wait until her metallic armor arrived. She was about to reach for her vest when a throat cleared behind her. She turned and saw her former lieutenant standing there, his face glowing. "My lady, why wear you those old rags?" he asked quietly, enjoying the look on her face. "You should wear your armor."

"This is my armor," she replied, gesturing to what little she had put on.

"Are you certain it is not this?" he asked gleefully, taking out a full vest of metallic armor that glistened in what little sunlight remained. Buffy let out a small gasp and nearly rushed him, plucking the vest from his outstretched fingers.

"This is awesome!" she whispered, removing her dagger and plunging it towards the chest of her armor. Watching her sharp knife slide away from the armor cracked another smile on her face. "Oh, beautiful!"

"I am glad you approve," the man said, smiling slightly. "When you are prepared, we will ride in the fields awaiting your Majesty."

She gave him a level look before nodding, but not before adding, "The next time you call me that, I'll demote you back to Lieutenant, Captain," she smirked, watching his eyes widen. "Not everyone can lead my personal guard."

He nodded and bowed his way from her waiting room. Once he was out, she dove towards her vest and replaced her old, outdated armor with her new vest. When she tucked her head out, she found new trousers, mail, boots and even a new artillery belt with knives, swords and a spanking new bow awaiting her. "Someone loves me today," she sighed happily as she finished tying on her new belt and slipping her arrow over her back. Once she was certain everything was in place, she walked from the Keep towards the place where her horse was waiting.

As soon as the doors to the Hornburg opened, Buffy rode down the ramp into a vast area with thousands of riders awaiting them. Her Captain and her elite guard rode up to surround her as her horse galloped into the valley. Spying Éomer slightly ahead, she rode until she was at his side. He glanced at her once before doing a double-take. She smirked slightly at his dazed reaction. "Yeah, I know I look good," she said smartly as they started to ride forward.

"One might actually mistake you for royalty," he jested.

"One could," she admitted, smoothing the sheer metal sleeves on her arms. Seeing the vast numbers of horses gathered around them, she held her breath a moment before releasing it. "So… where to?"

"Dunharrow."

"Oh, great," she murmured.

"We need to gather the _full strength _of our forces," he reminded her quickly as he lifted his arm to motion to his First Marshal.

"Yeah, because we don't want to overwhelm them or anything," Buffy muttered, whipping her horse around. Everything behind them was complete chaos. Sighing, she rode forwards, leaving Éomer alone at the head of the column. "Come on, you slowpokes! We have a deadline to keep! Ride on! Come on, get your butts on your horses and move! That's it!" she shouted, her horse now trotting backwards away from the sudden deluge of an entire army coming at it. Spinning around, her horse reared but Buffy clung neatly onwards as it shot forward, sprinting ahead of the King.

Seeing it as yet another challenge given to him, he nudged his horse onwards and soon caught up with her. The ground trembled underneath the full force of the Rohirrim, headed by both their King and Queen.

Suddenly she felt a familiar feeling in her abdomen and turned towards Helm's Deep. The last time she'd had a feeling like this, she knew she was never going to see it again. And now that she frequented this outpost more than Meduseld lately, the feelings had gone away. Perhaps this time she knew it was because they rode for war. Perhaps this time she knew it was because not everyone would be riding back.

This is what she had received, she thought dryly as they continued to plunder on to the south. It was heartbreaking, knowing how many would likely die in whichever skirmish they got into next. Not everyone could survive. That was a lesson she had learned back in Sunnydale.

But she had this life; she had chosen it. She had chosen to be this mystical, destined Slayer as well as a Queen, a Marshal and, surprisingly, a wife. All she had to do was find the right balance. As long as she had her sword, she could do anything she wanted. She could do just about anything.

And she would. The Sunnydale Slayer was gone… the battle-hardened young woman had been replaced by a mature, responsible(ish) figure capable of leading thousands… dedicated to her mother country… and yet, the sacrifices which this world would soon ask for… yes, she would.

x-x-x-x

The End.


End file.
